I Don't Want Stories to Tell me the Answer

I switched off the TV and just sat there in the quiet, absolutely stunned. 

Has a story ever done that to you? 

Maybe there was a twist that you never saw coming. Maybe the ending didn’t turn out the way you would have ever expected. I’ve certainly had my share of those. 

But even though this show had them both in spades, that wasn’t what had me thinking about it fifteen minutes later, days later, heck, even months later. 

And I realized that I thought of fewer Christian stories that had the same effect. 

Christian stories tend to go in with a message, answer, or truth they wish to communicate. We call it all sorts of good things, like being a light, or sharing the truth, or inspiring. The good characters naturally believe whatever message is in question. The bad characters don’t. 

Interestingly enough, secular books do this too. And when they do it, we complain that they had an agenda. But when a Christian book does it, it’s somehow uplifting and inspiring. 

In a way, it makes sense. As Christ-followers, we do know and are learning to understand truth, absolute truth. That may not be a popular idea, but it's just the way it is. 

But what this show did, and what the best Christian books have done in my life, is present a question rather than an answer. It looked at the real-world issues we deal with today and created authentic characters that fell everywhere on the spectrum. The “good” characters sometimes did horrible things. The “bad” characters sometimes did wonderful things. 

And it never quite picked a “correct” answer. 

And I was still thinking about it. 

And I realized maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want a story that told me the “correct” answer after all. 

There were lots of reasons this could be. I’d grown up with some morality tales of questionable quality that pushed me towards one specific answer. Maybe now that I was grown, I just wanted to push the limits that I never could before. Was I just trying to be difficult? 

Or maybe I just liked things that I could think about for hours and always have more to explore. Maybe I just liked thinking and imagining, and stories without answers lent themselves to that nicely. 

Or maybe I was just stubborn. After all, why should I trust your interpretation and your answers? What if I can do a better job on my own? 

Truth be told, it’s a little bit of all of that. But I think my reasons go deeper. And maybe they touch on some important ideas, some ideas that whether or not we all agree on, we can all agree we should think about. 

Not everything in life is black and white. 

That’s what I thought as a kid. I thought everything could be sorted neatly into two boxes, good and bad. If a book had more things in the “bad” box than “good,” it was evil and would surely send me straight to hell. But if it had more in the “good” box than the “bad,” it was therefore good. 

And here's the place for my little disclaimer: some things are black and white. 

But as I got older and experienced more in life, I realized life isn’t at all that way. There are dozens of contributing factors that lead people to draw the conclusions they do–culture, upbringing, religion, experiences. In fact, the older I get and the more I learn and experience, the less I’m actually finding that is black and white.  

Stories that exist simply to share an answer and leave don’t work because they don’t take the gray into account. Characters and choices are simply good or simply bad. And if they’re bad, they’re really bad. And if they’re good, they’re really good. 

But sometimes we humans do bad things for good reasons. And sometimes we do good things for bad reasons. Does that make us right? Does that make us wrong? Sometimes it just can’t be sorted into boxes. And those are the kinds of stories and choices that make us think. 

No one has all the answers. 

Something has always irked me about stories that set out to deliver a message or a truth. By doing so, no matter how well-meaning I am, it suggests that I myself hold the “truth.” And I don’t know, that always seemed a little arrogant to me. That, or it lent itself to imposter syndrome, because how dare I act like I have all the answers. 

In some cases, as Christians, we do have the truth. Some things are simply true. I know God is real. I know Jesus rose again to restore us. 

Here’s the thing, I don’t struggle so much to know what the truth is. I struggle to know what it looks like to live that out. Is this thing I want to do the right thing to do? That’s where it gets gray. 

No one has all the answers. We’re all just learning together. When we write stories that ask questions and explore every answer equally, we get to explore together. We get to learn from each other. 

A gift I don’t have to pay for doesn’t mean much. 

It calls to mind that story about David, where he was asking God to stop a plague and needed a place to make the sacrifice. The man who owned the area David wanted to use offered to give it to him for free. But David refused, essentially saying that a gift he got for free isn’t a gift at all. 

In the same way, an answer that’s handed to me, an answer that I don’t have to fight for, isn’t an answer that will stay with me. It isn’t an answer that’s going to impact me. 

Because I didn’t have to work for it. I’m just riding someone else’s coattails, hoping they know what they’re talking about. I haven’t done my research, I haven’t made it my own. 

When a story presents a question and an array of answers, with each answer having its good or bad, I have to do the hard work of deciding what I think. And that brings me to my final and most important point. 

Questions bring me closer to God than answers. 

While I love to think and explore, there’s another side of me, and that side loves black and white. All the time, I wish that God would just tell me what I should do in any given situation, wish there were some sure-fire way to just know. 

And that used to worry me. Because if I still had all these questions, wasn’t that bad? I wasn’t supposed to doubt, was I? 

But there’s something my momma told me that has stuck with me since I was about thirteen years old. “God isn’t afraid of your questions.” 

Of all the times I’ve heard teachings about Thomas (more famously known as doubting Thomas), only one has really stuck with me. The writer claimed that Thomas gets a bad rap. They pointed out that Jesus never scolded Thomas for having doubts and questions. He simply gave him the tools he needed to believe. And He stayed with him through all of it. 

That’s why I love stories that raise questions. This is why I love seeing Christian stories that raise questions. Because those questions create a space for me to come closer to God. 

Answers haven’t done that. Just getting the answers I want makes me feel like I know it all, like maybe I know better. 

But it’s questions that force me to admit that I just don’t know, I just don’t understand, and maybe I never will. 

It's questions that sometimes do the best job of showing​ me the answer. 

I’m still always searching for stories that will make me sit stunned after I turn the last page. But more than that, I’m still searching for stories that will ask the hard questions, present all the answers, and create a space for me to fight it out with God by my side.