That's Not Your Story

For years I’ve been reminding myself—or rather, God keeps graciously reminding me—of something Aslan tells Shasta and Aravis in The Horse and His Boy: “That’s not your story.”

Actually, that’s a misquotation. What Aslan tells Shasta in Chapter Eleven, in response to Shasta asking him why he attacked Aravis, is “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own” (p. 165 in the 1994 HarperTrophy edition). And in Chapter Fourteen, Aslan tells Aravis, in response to her asking him about what will happen to the slave girl who was whipped when Aravis ran away from home, the same thing: “I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (p. 202).

But “That’s not your story” comes to the same thing, and I can’t say how many times those four words have resurfaced in my mind to  either convict or comfort me. 

When I am tempted to ask Person A for the details of Person B’s difficult situation: That’s not your story. When I am tempted to tell Person B what I know of Person A’s difficult situation: That’s not your story. When I want to know what is going on with Person C, who I thought was a Christian but has been living in a way inconsistent with the gospel and the cost of discipleship: That’s not your story. When I wonder why Person D seems to have it so easy compared to me: That’s not your story. 

When, like Asaph in Psalm 73, I am bothered by how the wicked prosper while the righteous suffer: That’s not your story. When, like Job’s friends I want to know why a believer is suffering so intensely: That’s not your story. When, like Peter at the end of the Gospel of John, I want to know what God may have in store for another believer: That’s not your story. I think also of what Jesus told Peter in that moment: “What is that to you? You follow me!” (John 21:22).

Of course, telling ourselves “That’s not your story” won’t do much to quell our confusion or envy or love of gossip if we don’t believe there is a Storyteller who is both sovereign and good. But if there is such a Storyteller, we can trust Him to bring our stories and every other person’s story to a fitting end. He is telling us our own stories, and no one else’s. Let’s follow Him.

Pauline Patience for Difficult Relationships

Here’s a passage of Scripture that’s been reorganizing my mind and heart lately:

“But one thing I do [consider]: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained” (Philippians 3:13b-16, ESV).

I don’t remember when I was first struck by this realization: Paul is so convinced of the power of God to work in people’s hearts (see Philippians 1:6 and 2:13) that he isn’t fazed by the immaturity of believers, whether with underdeveloped theologies or a disconnect between their doctrine and their behavior; instead Paul trusts God to teach or correct them in due time. But in the past week two different reading group discussions, and multiple conversations with friends about rifts in our other relationships, have brought this passage back to my attention and have made its message all the more compelling, convicting, and comforting.

First, in my church my pastor has been leading discussions of Ray Ortlund and Sam Allberry’s book You’re Not Crazy: Gospel Sanity for Weary Churches (Crossway 2023). This past Sunday we discussed Chapter 6: “Leave Behind Lord-It-Over Leadership: A Culture Guided by Gentle Shepherds.” One of the points of that chapter is that, when a pastor trusts that “God himself is the ultimate shepherd, [he] can breathe. [The pastor has] responsibility—sobering responsibility—but God has the ultimate responsibility” (p. 108). When a pastor understands and embraces this truth, he won’t feel the need anymore to pick fights with cantankerous church members over secondary or tertiary issues, or to be pushy with those who are weaker in the faith and slower to grow (see 104-105). Instead the pastor can trust that God knows His sheep and is looking after each of them. I think this is a very Pauline take on patient, humble ministry, and indeed Ortlund quotes what Paul says just a few sentences after the above passage: “Philippians 4:5 says ‘Let your reasonableness [or gentleness, ESV margin note] be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand’” (113). From this verse Ortlund draws the conclusion that “a culture of gentle leadership means that people who differ on serious issues can belong together in the same church” (113). Imagine: if we really believed that people who received the same gospel and have the same Spirit don’t have to all be at the same level of maturity or agree on all the issues to have true, loving fellowship, there would be far fewer church splits, far fewer blogger brawls, and far fewer cage-stage Christians torpedoing perfectly fine friendships just to score points.

Second, I’m also reading J. Gresham Machen’s classic Christianity & Liberalism (1923) with two grad school friends, and on Monday we discussed Chapter 2: “Doctrine.” The point of the chapter is to dismantle the common refrain among theological liberals that doctrinal distinctions don’t matter, or at least distract from what they think is more important, following Christ’s ethics. But Machen doesn’t just expose the dangers and incoherence of this kind of thinking; he argues there is still space for a healthy ecumenicism, and even “tolerance,” when it comes to nonessential disagreements. And to make this point, Machen also turns to Philippians. In 1:15-18, Paul isn’t bothered that some other preachers are pursuing gospel ministry with the intent of upstaging him and making him jealous. Paul shrugs this off and praises God anyway: “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.” Machen writes, “It is impossible to conceive a finer piece of broad-minded tolerance” (p. 22 in the 2023 Westminster Seminary Press edition). Of course, Machen goes on to point out how intolerant Paul was of false teaching in Galatians—and I’ll add that in Philippians itself Paul has strong words for the Judaizers who insisted on circumcision (see 3:2). But there is no contradiction here, Machen explains, because in one case immature people are preaching the true gospel, and in the other case even more immature people are preaching a false one. Paul can live with the former, whereas the latter threaten to destroy the church at the root (22-25). And my own point is that Paul could be unflappable about these upstarts who “proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition” (1:17) because he trusted the Spirit could work in and through them, just as He had in his own life, and could get them to a place where they could say with Paul that nothing else matters but pressing on to know Christ (3:7-16). Imagine: if we really saw people the way Paul did, and trusted the Spirit’s power like he did, a fellow believer could try to egg us into arguing about something trivial and we could respond, “No thanks. I have better things to do, and so do you.” 

Ortlund and Allberry apply Paul’s patient mindset to pastoring and Machen applies it to theological disputes. But, finally, in my own life I’m finding these passages in Philippians immensely helpful for staying hopeful about fading or lapsed friendships. Some friends and I have each been grieving the abandonment or disengagement of people we considered close friends. These people have hurt us and either do not realize it or haven’t yet sought reconciliation. But what steadies me is Paul’s confidence that God always finishes the work He starts in a person (1:6, 2:13); that even misguided people can do transformative gospel work (1:15-18); and that God teaches and corrects His own in His own good timing (3:15). These friends of ours may not repair these breaches for months, years, even decades. But what if God has a long-term plan for bringing them to greater maturity and godliness, and only later will they be ready to reconcile? What if our conversations with them planted seeds that won’t grow to fruition until after a long, dark winter? Maybe, and maybe not. But if we take the promises of God’s Word seriously, we can at least rest assured that, if the other person is a brother or sister in Christ, we will be reconciled in heaven. Our disagreements, our grievances, or even just a lack of emotional intelligence will not separate us any longer. As I said in my last post, one day we won’t have to choose between our friendships and the Truth. God Himself will bring our erring Christian friends into the Truth.