Stereotypically, the Christian youth grows up in some connection to the church, then falls away as a teenager, and somewhere in the early/mid twenties begins to feel a tug back to Christ. In part, I think, that returning is sparked by the realization that I think we all come across in our twenties–that the life we thought we were guaranteed as kids is hard, and maybe isn’t guaranteed to turn out the way we thought it should. We wanted to go to This College, and were turned down. We wanted to get a job in a certain career path, couldn’t even get on the first rung of that ladder, and find ourselves doing something else we hate just to pay the bills. Or we do get started on that career, only to find it’s not what we thought it would be, and we’re foundering, frustrated, looking for solutions.
At the heart of that frustration is the conviction that perhaps every teenager yelled at a parent at some time: “It’s MY life!” And of course to some extent it is: once we’re on our own, we make our own path, and our parents aren’t there to hold our hands in quite the same way. But fundamentally, as teens and young adults we cling to that certainty that the life we lead is our own, nobody else’s, and therefore we’re the star of it–and when things go wrong, it’s unsettling.
It’s unsettling because we realize we’re not in control. There’s so much that goes on in our lives that we cannot control, and when those forces veer off the script we’ve written for ourselves, we get frustrated. It’s my life! Why can’t I control all these things? Why are these things happening to me? We look around for the pause button, we want to yell “Cut!” and reposition the actors and try that scene again. But unfortunately, as Anna Nalick sang in Breathe (2 AM), “No one can find the rewind button, girl.”
Let me offer another perspective: Perhaps it’s not entirely all about you after all. If we consider the possibility that instead of being the center of the universe, that we’re not, then that frustration can be dramatically reduced if not eliminated. Perhaps, then, we’re supporting actors in a larger epic adventure–we’re not the star, God is–and we’re part of his story instead.
What a relief to not have to be in control of everything! I remember driving with my son one time when he was perhaps four, and being just so frustrated by traffic and running late and fuming…from his carseat in the back, I heard him try to calm me down: “It’s OK, Daddy. You’re not in charge of the traffic. Are you in charge of the trees, or the sky?”
Whoa. MAJOR moment where the Word came to me through my child. No, little man, I’m not in charge. Someone else is, and when I surrendered to that truth, I opened up a world of relief and change. It’s not my story, it’s God’s, and I can hand it all over to him.
But what does God’s story look like, and what’s my role then? More on that next time.