If I took you into Blockbuster and asked you to find a story that best represents the story you are living, in what section would you start looking: action and adventure, drama, comedy, sci-fi and fantasy, animation, horror, family and kids, mystery and suspense, romance, documentary, war? The reason I ask is because the story you believe you are living determines how you interpret and react to life.
Let’s imagine you’ve just stepped onto a cruise ship for the vacation of your dreams. Your expectations are high—you have picked the best-rated cruise liner, the best destinations, the best weather possibilities, and you’ve paid a premium price. Shortly after the cruise begins, the weather changes from cloudless skies and calm seas to wind, rain, and turbulent water. The changing conditions have taken some of your desired activities and freedoms away. You are now forced indoors for most of the time and are relying on the food and amenities to make up for what was taken from you. You are disappointed by the service, which seems unreasonably slow, and the food, which is not as fresh and hot as you expected. All of the other people, who are also seeking shelter from the weather, are invading your space—they are needy and loud and too numerous. Even when you retreat to the sanctuary of your cabin, you can still hear their voices and their clunking around. You find yourself shouting (at least under your breath), “Why do things have to be like this; why do things have to be so hard; why can’t You come through for me, God—at least once?”
Now let me simply change the setting of this story. You are boarding a ship, but it is not a vacation cruise liner; it is a battleship. You have dreamed of and worked hard for this day. Your expectations are high—to be in the company of other warriors playing a significant part in a great battle for the lives and freedom of others. It’s crowded, but you are glad you’re not alone and you know that you need each other. The food isn’t great, but it sustains you. Life fluctuates from boredom to intensity, but you know you are moving toward the objective. The conditions outside may be rough, but you hardly notice because you’re focused on your role, your job, your contribution on the ship, and your preparation. You find yourself shouting (at least under your breath), “When do I get to do what I was trained to do; when do I engage the enemy?”
All I did was change the story line. In the first story, the theme was rather small—personal comfort, enjoyment, peacetime: vacation. In the second story the theme was large—great mission, transcendence, a time of war: the battle for freedom and life.
Most of us live under the illusion of the first story, while assenting to the reality of the second story. As believers, we say we understand that there is a great battle between the kingdoms—the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Satan. But we live as if we were civilians and believe the battle to be an unthreatening distance away. And so we have made our mission the quality of our lives and the controlling of external factors. We have made our lives about being on a vacation cruise liner, rather than about realizing we are on a battleship heading toward a great mission.
