Every day I write the book

“Sometimes I think there are experiences we need to live, for whatever reasons. Lessons to learn, to grow in life.”

So says Nelle.

“I agree, and that’s the thing that kills me, especially when considering the fact that I don’t believe in predestination.”

So say I.

I really don’t believe in it. Predestination, that is. And yet, I do believe that there are certain experiences in ones life, that have to occur in order for that person to fully realize themselves (or at least have the opportunity to do so).

“So, how does that work then, t?” Well, I’ve given it a bit of thought actually, and I think (believe) that it all comes down to this.

Now first, a bit of a disclaimer: I read a lot of what my kids call “Jesus books.” “There’s daddy, reading another one of his ‘Jesus books’ again” they snidely say. Stupid kids, whatta they know anyway? But that’s not the point. The point is that what I have to say below is most likely just a simplified conglomeration of other people’s – smarter people’s – thoughts. And if what I say sounds brilliant or wise in any form or fashion, it’s quite accidental that it should be coming from my hand at all, and is much more likely just the result of a having a good memory.

OK, here goes – here is how I think it works.

Say I’m a blogger, which I am. Prior to you ever receiving the “magic” that flows from my slightly abused and underused mind, I have to write it all down. But before hitting “post” I – like all good bloggers I would assume – proofread that sucker, making any corrections that are needed first. Now, that’s not how I think it works yet, though.

No, then we move on to you, You read whatever I post, and if you’re like me, you sometimes go back through thinking to yourself, “Oh, he really should have elaborated on that bit more,” or, “I wish he hadn’t made mention of that at all,” or again “What in the devil is he even talking about, and why am I reading this dribble?” (Just so you know, I always assign you all with British accents whenever I imagine you talking like this.) In short, you – internally at least – edit my work. THAT is how I think it works. We write the story, but God reads it, and once done, goes back to tweak the narrative in ways that will provide us with the best possible outcome to the tale.

How is it that He could read a story that I’m only now just working on chapter 43 of myself? Easy. I am handcuffed by time. He is not. I am trapped in the trenches of life, while He sits above it. While I can only be exactly here and now, God can skim through my story at will, jumping ahead or back as desired (yeah, I’m pretty much stealing that whole idea just now from CS Lewis. Can’t remember which book exactly, but whichever one of his you happen to pick up, will be worth a read none the less).

So, in a nutshell, that’s how I think it works. We the writer, He the editor. We, the main character in our own story and – should we be very diligent in recognizing his edits – we the ones who get to learn, to grow in life, to enjoy the “happily everafters.”

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PS: Yes, I’m aware that the song above has very little to do with the actual post. It’s Elvis Costello – ima gonna use it anyway.