The Story of Our Win

(The following is a post I wrote for the Throw Mountains blog. If you haven’t checked it out yet, I invite you to head on over.)

I admit it. I’m an American Idol stalker. (Meaning, I don’t have a lifelong fascination, but I do a drive-by here and there. More so lately.)

I know. I know. A.I. is a sometimes shameful fame-fest that is as “indulgent” as Simon Cowell accuses any contestant of being. But they lured me in, very stealthly.

I started out as an occasional audition-junkie.

It is hard not to be fixated when they scrape up contestants who share two important spotlight-stealing traits:
1. They couldn’t carry a tune if their life depended on it. Literally.
2. Their parents were all masterful liars. (“No, honey, that shrill cats-being-tortured-tone is beauuuuuutiful.”)

My lack of total fanaticism is a result of all the actual competitions, which tend to bore me. The most exciting part, other than the inhuman vocal range of say, Adam Lambert, is–let’s be honest–all the judges’ little barbs and insults. I generally fast-forward through a lot of the songs to get to my favorite performers. And sometimes I just plain forget about the show for a few weeks until an AOL headline about the final episodes jars my memory.

The thing that keeps me coming back though is the Story of the Win.

I love that moment–that first thiry seconds–after contestants make the cut and win the chance to go to Hollywood. Or the moment when they make the Top Ten and thus, the chance to go on tour. Or when, finally–after all the shtick-y group cabaret dances and Ford videos–someone wins the whole sha-bang.

I like to watch their faces.
The tears.
The sappy grins.
The sloppy uncontrollable joy that turns their formerly polished performer-selves into emotionally charged puddles of sheer joy.

Something about that moment chokes me up. Its like seeing potential lit on fire in front of you.

I think it connects to that part of me–to that part of us?–that is “dreamer”; the part of us that longs for someone to acknowledge our hard work and talent; the part of us that is dying for the resources and opportunity to pursue our dreams.

Sometimes I like to look at my life through my “dreamer lens”.
I hope, for example, for specific things.
That certain career post.
That perfect friendship.
That story book adventure.

And that’s cool. I think dreaming–the act of envisioning hope– is healthy.
And I think its congruent with God’s age-old desire to see humans flourish.
But I’ve learned, and am still learning, to hold those dreams in perspective.

Have you ever seen Psalm 37:4, for example? It says, “Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Its easy, of course, to read that and be like, “See that! Right there! God is going to make my dreams come true.” (“I am going to be a Top 40 recording artist, even though I can’t sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Stars without people shrieking in pain!”)

But over time, I’ve noticed something else that might be tucked away in the verse. And that’s the maybe just-as-important implication that AS we delight in the Lord, our hearts will grow closer to God’s heart. We will want the things God wants for our lives; we will long for his will and his purposes. And then, as we take on more of God, what he gives us will end up being exactly what we want most.

It will be the Story of our Win.

What about you? How are you finding the Story of Your Win in the life God has given you? I’d love to hear about it.

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