The Stories That Surround Us

"There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories." Ursula K. Le Guin 

Last Sunday as usual I was hurrying to check on everyone and make sure all of the hungry mouths had a morning meal so I could get ready for church. At the sheep field before I could start the head count, I noticed a set of twin lambs born two days prior running around frantic without their mother. And she had proved a good, attentive mother. 

All sheep were accounted for except the mother ewe. That was strange. Even if a coyote managed to get through the fencing, the sly predator would have never made it past the watchful eyes of two Great Pyrenees, and still a coyote wouldn't have attacked a big sheep with such easy prey as vulnerable babies in the field. It didn't make sense. 

I scooped up the lambs as I proceeded to walk around basically in circles, wondering where in the world the mom could be. Then all of a sudden I heard a faint, muffled baa. "Oh Jesus, help us!" The voice came from under a heavy round bale of hay that had fallen over on its side. I couldn't even see any part of the mom at all; she was completely hidden. I shifted the lambs to one arm and grabbed my phone to call the Farmer. 

"Come now with the tractor a bale fell on a sheep; hurry!" 

When the Farmer arrived and lifted the bale with the hay spear, I handed him the lambs inside of the cab so I could help their mom. She was lying on her side, and I expected her to be as flat as a pancake. 

Amazingly she seemed okay. Sheep aren't known for being the brightest beast in the animal kingdom, but if a hay bale is tipping over, they usually have enough sense to get out of the way. I immediately saw her problem. 

She must have been eating deep inside of the hay because a piece of hemp bailing twine was wrapped around her ear tag so when she went to move, she couldn't. Poor thing. I untangled her and slid her out into the field. Her front leg was hurt, but the Farmer assured me it wasn't broken that she just needed to get the circulation going in it again. He was right. 

Sheep get unbelievably stressed at the least little thing, so I knew this scary ordeal had to have traumatized her to the core. I gave her a bucket of water, a pan of grain, her lambs, and some space. The Farmer and I stood there for a bit in the chilly air watching her from a distance, mesmerized, thanking God. It was one of those moments you cherish because you know it doesn't always go that way. 

Then we went to church. 

In "Narrative Apologetics; Sharing the Relevance, Joy, and Wonder of the Christian Faith," Oxford University professor Alister McGrath writes: 

"Humans are storytellers and story-dwellers. Some stories are received, some are discovered, and some are simply invented. C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia are fundamentally about discovering a story that makes sense of all other stories - and then embracing it, because of its power to give meaning and value to life. But which is the true story? Which are merely its shadows and echoes? And which are fabrications, tales spun to entrap and deceive?" 

This is a crucial question Dr. McGrath asks because all of us live by the story we believe.  

Christian Smith points out in his book "Moral, Believing Animals," that there are eleven contemporary meta-narratives that he believes shape the thinking of Western people. ( I won't list them all just some of the most common.)  

The Progressive Socialism narrative. The Scientific Enlightenment narrative. The Capitalist Prosperity narrative. The Expressive Romantic narrative. The Chance and Purposelessness narrative. The Christian Meta-narrative.   

Dr. McGrath offers helpful guidance to his readers in deciding which stories about our world and ourselves we should choose and how to know whether it is truthful and reliable: 

"Which 'grand story' allows the best rendering of our complex universe? Which meta-narrative offers the most illumination of our shadowy world?"

Likewise in Lewis's Narnia we see the same perplexing dilemma faced by the Pevensie siblings as they listen to stories about the true origin of Narnia. They realize that they must make decisions about which persons and which stories are to be trusted. Will they believe the narrative of the White Witch or the one of the mysterious Aslan whose return is expected at any time? 

This is the work of Christian apologetics: To concentrate on the question of the trustworthiness of the Bible narrative, the Gospel of Jesus Christ and its power to illuminate and then change our lives. 

Later that day I leaned against a fence post in the sheep field and watched the mama ewe and her twins. They were stretched out together on a soft layer of flattened hay sleeping in the afternoon sunshine. Thankfully they rested content, none the worse for wear. 

I thought about how God seems to create stories to swirl and echo around us in our everyday lives. Stories that don't just encircle our ordinary routines, but actually draw us into his grand narrative. 

Stories, some happy, some sad, but both challenge the latest cultural narratives of our day or of ages gone by, stories that excite the imagination and give us a glimpse of some glorious, eternal future we long to embrace. 

Stories that whisper of One who will rescue and redeem us from sin and a wicked, deceiving enemy who relentlessly pursues us. A Shepherd, who is firmly, but also gently, sliding us out into his marvelous light, into the story that resonates with the cry of every human heart while dispelling existential despair. A story that ends, but really begins, when we are finally guided safely home to rest content in the arms of Jesus, having been removed from the entanglements and entrapments of this "shadowy world."   

But the question remains: Which story will you believe? 

The Stories Within Us

"I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen - not only because I see it, but because by it, I see everything else." C.S. Lewis  

The Farmer was up at daybreak last Monday morning to load a Hereford steer onto the livestock trailer so he could head to the beef processor before his work phone started ringing. The day before as I was filling up the water trough in the cow field, the steer moseyed over for a drink. While he lapped up the water with his huge tongue I thanked him for his sacrifice. In supplying our family with food his life possessed great worth, purpose, and meaning.  

"Thank you, Buddy. I'll see you on the other side." 

Animals give so much to mankind in the way of friendship, protection, nourishment, clothing, joy, and if we have ears to hear and eyes to see a reason for God. 

Sadly, they were subjected to their fallen state because of us. ( Romans 8:20-21 ) Some animals however, seem to hold a measure of compassion and forgiveness toward humans. Dogs, favorite cows and possibly a few cats. 

Last year I experienced two difficult losses. After a long, never long enough, productive life here at Healing Brook, leaving behind a legacy embodied in the shape of ten adorable litters of puppies and a stellar guarding record of the farm and his food bowl, my lovable Atlas died in July. 

When the end was near I was able to cradle that big old head in both hands and tell him no other dog will ever live up to him. Although his grandson Aslan is gaining much ground, Atlas was simply the best.

I was reminded of the Elizabeth Barrett Browning quote: "His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears." It wasn't the first time Atlas caught my tears, but it was the last. 

In November I found myself again cradling the big head of yet another favorite animal close to death. My cow Starlight. 

Starlight was the first baby moo born here, and she had given us many healthy calves since and much joy. But this time she was pregnant with twins, and the labor did not go well. We weren't able to save her or her young. Before the end, I had "my moment" with her. Before she slipped away into the grassy cow fields of heaven, her huge, furry head was soaked in my tears and snot. 

Since my spiritual awakening five years ago and the desire to pursue my faith with more of an academic passion, I've found that in chasing God with my mind and not only my heart has actually helped to make sense of the desires, both good and bad, residing in my heart. Sound biblical doctrine has slowly reordered the loves of my heart, helping to identify and banish the idols that lived there while at the same time driving the Gospel deeper into the empty crevices vacated by the inordinate loves.  

One new love is the study of Christian Apologetics. ( Defending the faith ) I never realized there were so many subsections in this field, nor did I realize until my sabbatical that my life long curiosity in stories and especially the same apparent story in all of us, is actually a thing: "Narrative Apologetics." 

No matter what apologetic course we choose, the longing for transcendence deep in the human soul points us to God even if many in our current culture need to be awakened first beneath the heavy blankets of doubt, unbelief, fear, and hopelessness. 

Someone prayed for me to wake up, so now, I pray for others. I want to encourage the uncovering of these existential questions and administer permission to breathe and feel them; denying they exist in our human experience doesn't make them disappear. The self-deception only adds to the angst and existential despair we feel whether we believe in the existence of God or not. Christians face doubts too. I see now that God allows this and even leads us this way at times. 

A healthy faith keeps studying and asking questions, plunging the depths to grasp more and more of God. 

Saying we arrived at our current destination by the strong eating the weak and now we must stop all of that cannibalism and start loving each other doesn't work for me. And I don't think it works for you either. I don't think it works for the 'new atheists' like Richard Dawkins even though they don't have the guts to admit it like the older atheists. Bertrand Russell, Aldous Huxley, and even Nietzsche at least had the integrity to admit that in subtracting God out of the equation of life we also subtract out our very basis for morality. 

But no matter what areas we embrace to appeal to our Christian faith, I can't help but wonder if God is shouting to us through nature and paradoxically through the allowance of suffering, questions, and divine hiddenness: "Here I am! Here I am!" Before we can hear his voice we have to have the courage and integrity to awaken to the questions inside of us and wiggle out of our comfortable sleeping bags. 

Why is there something and not nothing? Have you really ever thought about nothing? It's not black or empty or dark because black and empty and dark are something. Why is there beauty? Why do we feel a connection to others and to animals? Why are the same stories inside of all of us? Why these longings? 

Could these yearnings and glimpses of mystery and beauty be bread crumbs guiding us to something wonderful and warm and deliciously hopeful beyond this world? 

In an effort to shorten my blogs, I'm stopping here, but I'll take this up in my next post. 

Recently, I encountered another sad loss - my friend Bernie. Bernie passed away January 22nd at the age of 87. He read each of my blogs, and then waited to discuss them with me at church. His interest in my abstract wonderings meant a lot. And why is that? He asked many questions concerning the things I wrote ( one bluntly being, why are your blogs so long? lol ) while leaving me with many things to think about. So in memory of Bernie, I'm working on conciseness. I will miss his friendship and encouragement greatly. 

"Thank you, Buddy, I'll see you on the other side." 

Atlas the Great