But the stories stay the same.

“The faces change, but the stories stay the same.” It’s a line I won’t soon forget from an old coach of mine.

I live 2 miles from the track at my old high school. When I’m feeling chipper (occasionally), I’ll run down and do some pullups on the rusty old bars bolted loosely into the exterior wall of the field house. And while I’m there, I’ll (occasionally) run into a former coach or classmate who still works at the school.

On one of these occasions, I asked how things were, “What’s new at the school?”

“New?” he questioned. “Not much really. The faces change, but the stories stay the same.”

At one level we all know this to be true, don’t we? Stories of hard work that cannot be realized due to a lack of talent; stories of abundant talent wasted because of a lack of hard work; stories of shortsighted teenage passions that result in long term consequences; stories of hopes and dreams and fears and tears.

I’ve always loved a good story. I don’t know many people who don’t. My kids love them: “Dad, tell us a story?” When I was a Chaplain, my Soldiers loved them: “Hey sir, what was Ranger school/Afghanistan/West Point like?” My church loves them, “Pastor, what was going on when Jesus said…when God did…?”

It seems that at some level, human beings are hardwired to love stories.

A cynic would say we love to be entertained. I would suggest it’s deeper than that. We love stories because we recognize, inherently, that our lives are a story. And if my life is a story, then so is yours. And so is Jim’s life from accounting. And so is Phyllis’ life down the street. And that guy I always see at the gym…and my Doctor…and that man pushing his bike down the road…

Every human life is a story. It has been that way from the beginning. In many ways, there is a deep inter-relatedness between “story” and “being” itself - to be human means that one has a story. What’s more, none of our stories are completely independent. They are connected, a great web of stories spanning time and space and cosmos.

If that is true (I think it is), then the last year of our collective human experience has been a dark chapter in our collective story. But, even in our most downtrodden moments, when the cries of woe overwhelm us, we know that we are not alone. If nothing else, dark chapters are common in the human story – plagues and wars and genocides and natural disasters. Perhaps our story has many such dark chapters.

The faces change, but the story stays the same.

“What does any of this have to do with the Bible?” you ask?

Wait, you didn’t ask that? Was that an awkward transition? It is my driving point of this short essay though – the Bible has everything to do with our human stories.

Too often, we’ve been taught (implicitly or explicitly) that the collection of writings we know as the Bible is nothing more than a reference manual for how to be a good Christian; it’s a list of rules to follow so you don’t go to Hell; it’s a moral guidebook for the religiously sensitive.

But somewhere along the way, we’ve missed its value as story. The Bible is, whatever else it is, a collection of writings about people. Which means, as I’ve suggested, it’s a book of stories – a storybook about being human.

If I could distill the thrust of the Gospel into two words which resonate within this framework (pardon my irreverence), I’d say this: Better Stories.

More than anything, why did call Abram to go on an adventure? Better stories.

Why was Moses sent back to Egypt? Better stories.

Why was David called from the flocks to the throne? Better stories.

Why were the prophets – Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel – sent to a broken people? Better stories.

Why did God become a man in Jesus Christ? Better stories.

Why was the Spirit sent and the Church born? Better stories.

Why will Jesus return in glory? Better stories.

Why does God want to have relationship with you? Better stories.

As we move into this season of Lent, we’ll be looking at one of those foundational stories – the story of Creation and Humanity and Sin – and finding (I think) the resonance within our own stories: glory and freedom; shame and disgrace; isolation and loneliness; intimacy and grace.

The faces change, but the stories stay the same, don’t they? The world changes, but the human condition???

And in the midst of our broken world, there we see Jesus. And in his wake, we find (wonder of wonders)…better stories.

If you care to join, you can follow along on YouTube over the next 6 weeks or so. This Sunday, we’ll kick off part 1 of our series, Being Human (clever play on words right?? Follow me for more Dad jokes.)

Wherever you are today, know that I’m praying for you.

Steve