"There's always the chance you could die right in the middle of your life story."
– Chuck Palahnick
Do you like your story? It's an odd thought, isn't it? Your life, the sum of all small events and experiences culminating into one story–is it a good one? If today is the final chapter, would you die having lived a story worth telling? These are questions I've been asking for the past year–over and over. And, I'm not talking about a life of comfort, extravagance and ease. Who would want to read a story like that? No. I'm asking if your life is rich, full–maybe even exhilarating.
See, I had a crazy, wild thing happen last July–the kind that you see on the news and always assume happens to "other people." Then, suddenly, on a day like any other you become "other people." It was traumatic. It was horrifying. And, it was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
I don't wish that kind of experience on anyone, but I know that it fundamentally changed me. I think most crazy, wild events have that effect on people. I'm not sure how to describe it, exactly, but it was like seeing life in color for the first time. I remember going back to work the following week. As I sat, staring at my computer monitor, I knew that life couldn't go back to the way it was before. And, to be honest, I didn't want it to. Because, even though that event was horrible, it made me see my life, my story, for what it really was. More than anything, it made me want to live a better one.
“It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.”
– Patrick Rothfuss
The thing is, we have all been sold a lie that the white picket fence and golden retriever are indicative of a life well-lived. If we marry the right person, look the right way, wear the right clothes, work out enough, earn enough, become enough, then we will enjoy a life culminating in sunset views from a porch swing, where we sit by our lifelong sweetheart sipping ice cold glasses of lemonade. That's the American dream, isn't it? The paid mortgage, fancy car, impressive education–all of it is supposed to add up to a great life…a great story.
But here is where the problem lies. When I changed last July, none of that mattered at all. My career path, expendable income, great apartment, new car, fashionable clothes, education–it all lost its sparkle instantly. Everything I had worked so hard for–spent all of my time striving for–was nothing more than an endless pursuit for things that bring comfort and temporarily numb the ache of a idle soul. I'm not saying that any of them are wrong, in and of themselves, but they are not the building blocks of a great story.
So, I did something sort of crazy, probably the same crazy thing a lot of you reading this have done, are doing or are considering. I signed up for the World Race. People have asked me why and I'm not even sure that I fully know yet. Maybe it's because I needed a change. Maybe I thought God wouldn't stop bugging me until I did. Maybe I had a moment of pure insanity. It's probably some of all of those things. But, mostly, I want to live a better story–one that is no longer written and directed by me, because, quite frankly, my plot has been pretty boring thus far. No. I want a story written by the God who already knows the ending–who has an intricate, brilliant and captivating tale in mind. I want a story weaved into the epic revelation of God's unfailing and relentless love for us–the most dazzling story of all time. Who wouldn't want that?
I'm not naive enough to believe that what I'm suggesting will be easy. In fact, I expect it to be uncomfortable and probably painful, at times. I imagine that that it will be marked by far more challenges, surprises and transformation, but that's just the thing. I think that's what great stories are made of.
