Why Unfinished Stories Matter

Once upon a time, my husband and I were invited to a dinner party. A gathering of friends pooling together a spread of dishes and enjoying each other's company. Additionally, we were asked to think of an inspirational story to share after dinner.

If I remember correctly, many of the stories may have warranted Oscar-worthy scores. The beautiful melodies, dramatic crescendos and swells, sweet conclusions of pleasant harmonies and definitive ending notes. We rode the waves together, our souls resting peacefully with each closure.

And then my husband shared about meeting with a friend for coffee that week. This was the story (I am not quoting exactly):

I had coffee with a friend this week and he was telling me how God's been leading him and his wife lately. He's in school and looking for a job to support his wife and baby-on-the-way. They'd been praying about work and both felt really strongly that he shouldn't accept the next offer he received [for reasons unspecified]. Sure enough, he got a call a few days later with a job offer and, even though it was really hard and didn't make a lot of sense, he turned it down. And that's basically the story.

**crickets chirping**

Someone broke the silence, I thought you were going to say that the next day he got a better offer and it all made sense. **low chuckles of agreement and confusion**

Chris:

Nope. There was no call, no new direction, and no reason from God about why he couldn't have accepted that offer. I know there's no real end to the story, but I was really inspired by it--it stuck with me all week--because of their faith, because they're waiting and being obedient even though it doesn't make sense at all.

Friends, I don't think there's a Hollywood soundtrack for this. If this is how a film ended, it would be smeared with truly rotten tomatoes by critics and audiences alike. We seem to tolerate a weak beginning or middle as long as we have closure. Unless, as in Chris's story and last year's film, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (otherwise known as The Hobbit: part 2 of 3) there is no real ending...because you know it's the middle of a 3-part, complete story. It had no ending because it's not the end!

I love that Chris saw this in our friend's story. What else did he see? Himself. Me. Us. He was inspired to keep persevering when it doesn't make sense and when answers don't seem to come and when people around us think we're morons for not taking action into our own hands. He saw the true beauty of obedience and was reminded that this is not the end of the story.

It would do us  all a world of good to stop hiding in the unfinished middle of our stories and start sharing the tension, the grit, and the irrational. Why do we keep such a tight lid on our trials and plans? Why do we wait until we've reached a satisfactory "end" to reveal what's been happening?

Here are some of my reasons. (I warn you, none of them are good.) 

I keep my unfinished business to myself when:

*my emotional response to circumstances is so terribly raw I'm afraid I will push people away. You can't handle the truth! kind of stuff. 

*my situation is the polar opposite of people around me and I believe the only responses I'll get are blank stares, stupid cliches, and unsolicited advice. And I'll be labeled as a social pariah. I choose: none of the above. 

*I'm not 100% convinced God is going to do what (I think) He said and I don't want to look dumb if it doesn't work out. Yikes, but true. 

*circumstances have me completely in the dark and I have no words to describe, share, hope, or praise during that time. 

*I have an end goal in mind and don't want anyone to get in my way with their opinions, reactions, or conflicting plans. I'll let them know when it's done and then, what can they do?

Pride, fear, and self-absorption, plain and simple. Deceptive, destructive.  

No one likes to admit he's struggling or feeling devastated by thwarted plans. Out of our mouths fly a variety of "no sweat" explanations for why it's not that bad, how we expected this and are armed with Plans B-through-W. Or we stay quiet and refuse to let on. 

As neighbors and friends, we divert our eyes from dirty laundry airing next door and tell ourselves it's to protect their dignity. We'll smile and nod approvingly when their yard has been cleared and mowed and re-lanscaped. All's well that ends well!

But in waiting for the end--be it fairytale, predictable, or divinely miraculous--we all miss out on seeing what makes the end so sweet. Let me tell you, you who are in the middle, thinking about giving up, and trying to walk it alone: God is in the middle. You and I know that these trials are not the stuff of textbooks or survival handbooks. This is the stuff of Psalms, of Daniel in the lion's den, of the prophets, and of Paul in chains. In the midst of the fire we choose our identity: Burned or Refined. In the middle mire we learn Who's in control, we see what's real, we learn the hard lessons of trust. 

This part of the story must be told. From those who are going through it, we need to learn the posture of humility and the depth of perseverance. Fragrant laments teach us about faithfulness, their melodies stretch our perspective. We need to learn to recognize the fruit that blooms from obedience. We have an opportunity to speak into the unfinished and say, Don't be afraid! This is not the end! I see God with you! There is no freedom in pride, no faith in fear, no surrender in self-absorption. Open up and share; sit down and listen. 

I pray that we will recognize God in an unfinished story this week and find inspiration from the work that's being done. I hope you will have fresh eyes for your own unfinished story and be emboldened to share it now and stop waiting for the socially-acceptable ending. And I hope that when you reach the end of your story, you will only be able to point to God as having been its author, perfecter and finisher.