There's a hero in my story, and it's not me

I started watching a sit-com the other day and got as far as one and a half episodes before I was pretty well sick of it. Now I quite like sitcoms, the scenario was promising and the writing wasn't bad, so what was my problem? It took me a while to work it out, but I think I got there.

The protagonist was a hero, and not an anti-hero.

Think of the majority of sit-coms you see or remember, and almost always the chief character is an anti-hero. Albert and 'Arold Steptoe, Frank Spencer, Tony Hancock, Victor Meldrew, Hyacinth Bucket (couldn't BEAR that one), they're almost all well-meaning people trying to cope with the crazy things that happen and battling with their own inadequacy.

Not this other series. The chief character is a good guy, omni-competent and well-adjusted. Every else in his life is nuts, that's all.

I think for the Christian honesty dictates that we see ourselves not as heroes but in a way as anti-heroes. We may often have good intentions, perhaps, but usually we find our own motivations and desires almost unfathomable. Are my motives pure or mixed? What about all my self-interest? Do I or have I ever loved God with undivided heart? Do I even really know what love is?

I think that's why the old advice is given to preachers - it's OK to tell the odd story about yourself as long as it is not too odd and you are to the hero.

There is a hero, though, and it's not me. It's the one who does know what love is, and who loved me and his heavenly Father with undivided heart and who even now is watching over me, guarding me and keeping me safe through all the crazy twists and turns that life takes.


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