Where’s the Gospel in That?
Barnes & Noble used to be a glorious place. Perhaps it still is, sometimes, in some cities. Chris worked there while we were dating and newly married. I remember bringing our son as an infant to visit the downtown Bellevue store - now closed - where Chris put in long hours. The best perk was being in the loop: new titles, a beloved series released in paperback, a crazy discount. We once scored “Monopoly: Onyx Edition” for $1 when it hit clearance. It was a beautiful thing to be connected to a bookstore.
Books feel a little magical. Or more precisely, stories do. Why do we get lost in them? Why do they stay with us? Why are we eager to share with friends the ones that impact us? There is something about a well-crafted narrative that is other-worldly. Even through stories told in our own world, like biographies or compelling documentaries, we experience the life of another whole person; we undergo a baptism into their perspective and emerge transformed. I am convinced that the other-worldliness of a good story can always be traced to its ability to echo a story engraved on the human soul.
My kids were skeptical when I proposed this. I set my hypothesis before them repeatedly: any story that impacts you for good does so because it is retelling the Gospel. Human beings inherently know, on a cellular level, that we need some kind of rescue, some kind of redemption. My beloved secular brothers and sisters will say that we have the ability and responsibility within ourselves to make the world a better place - we share an acknowledgement that it is broken somehow, and in need of bettering. As a follower of Jesus, I join a chorus that says this ability is not within ourselves; we are not our own rescue. And I think our collective stories testify that we know this.
An outsider enters the narrative. Someone who is built different and goes against the grain. But they aren’t strictly an outsider, either - they relate to the underdogs, the captives, the everyday little guys. They are misunderstood and maligned, but they persist through obstacles and conflict. Ultimately, they sacrifice in order to rescue the ones who need rescuing. Every good story is good because it reimagines the Really Good one: life is snatched from the jaws of death, and a fresh and empowering spirit energizes the new movement. We proclaim the kingdom of Jesus afresh when we read and watch and tell and write good stories.
It’s become a joke, at this point, because my kids aren’t skeptical anymore. It used to be that they’d try to challenge me: “Okay, sure Mom, where’s the Gospel in this video game?” I’d ask them to explain the plot of the game. They tell me: a kid falls into the underworld and faces a series of choices that can either result in tragedy or in a climax where a barrier is broken and peace is restored, then the kid ascends back to his overworld. Really? I ask them, chuckling, and highlight the ways the kid is a Messiah-figure. We talk about the different ways the story can go, and the impacts of the various endings on us. What about this movie? What about this book? What about this character?
For my kids, it’s gone from feeling like a stretch to feeling like second nature to see elements of the Gospel in the narratives they take in. We have talked, too, about stories that fail to echo the Really Good story. When Game of Thrones came out, I read the first three books before throwing in the towel. The author’s nihilism is apparent, and the narrative grew wandering, aimless, and held way too much content I had to skip over. Not every story is a good story. (But even those that don’t lead to redemption can’t help but tell of figures who rise from the ashes to liberate captives, GoT included.)
When we start recognizing the echoes, we see them everywhere. I like that this sets us free to enjoy stories written from wildly different worldviews and see common ground. I like that each baptism into a character’s life opens my eyes (and heart) just a little bit more. We tell and retell the stories that show our longing for a hero, a sacrificial rescuer, a perfect lover, a best friend, an adventurer who stares death down and wins.
Have a beloved narrative and want to see where the Gospel is in it? Drop it in the comments.
