A Literary Apologetic

The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.

-Jack London

In these trying times, we are again faced with the problem we wish to ignore, the problem of pain. Every worldview and religious system must account for suffering in some way. In the Christian worldview, suffering is a result of mankind’s fall from perfect state in submission to God to a rebellious sin nature. In my mind, this is a satisfying explanation. As a teacher and a “rule follower” by personality, I know there is always a reason behind the rules. Rebellion and disobedience usually ends in pain, disappointment, or inconvenience for the individual or the group. Even though I am satisfied with the explanation of how suffering came about, there remains the taunting, doubt-inducing question, “Why?” If God knew and cared and was powerful enough, couldn’t all of this have been avoided?

I enjoy reading good books and writing stories and it occurred to me that in some ways, literature speaks to this question. Every good story teller knows that the central component of a story in conflict. A lack of conflict will result in a flat, uninteresting story. Some stories may even have extreme amounts of struggle and tragedy that leave people weeping, and yet these are some of the most beloved stories. Good literature moves from conflict to resolution. Satisfying narratives have satisfying conclusions. I would say this is true of stories from most cultures, including cultures with a cyclical view of history. Perhaps the major exception to this would be biographical or historical narratives whose purpose is to relate the story with accuracy even if the ending is not what seems to be deserved or desired.

Why do we find such pleasure, not only in perfect things, but in disorder righted, pain soothed, desolation rebuilt, weakness brought to strength? I would argue this is not merely from observation. Adults all know that “true” stories, that is, real life experiences, don’t always have happy endings. It is not an evolutionary drive in my opinion for though this might lead us to desire good outcomes in the form of self-preservation, evolution would lead to the elimination of the unfit. Why then do readers and movie goers delight in the story of the underdog who is victorious or the compassionate protagonist who lifts up the oppressed and forgotten? If this desire is a need for balance between good and evil, why do we feel that stories must end with the good? A story that starts with perfection and ends in disaster has little appeal.

Is this innate desire for conflict with resolution a reflection of what is intrinsically beautiful? That God’s narrative for the earth and the human race is, in fact, the greatest story ever told and our stories must reflect that or fail? The evil and pain in the world humble us and make us cry out, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come!” Yet we have hope that the ending of the story will be good. In the meanwhile, we’ll keep writing our own little miniatures of redemption and resolution, imperfect certainly, but imitating the great story.