Bill Clem opens his book, Disciple, with two scenarios. One has to do with a couple of guys who are theater majors in college, and they grow impatient with all the hoops they have to jump through to finish their degree. They just want to be producing plays and directing and acting in them. So, one day they come with an idea: rent a warehouse, put together some makeshift furnishings, write a script, and stage their own play. So, against the advice of their parents and their professors, they drop out of school and begin pursuing their dream. But, of course, they run into all sorts of obstacles. They’ve considered the cost, and they figured they had that covered. After all, there was the money they would save on tuition and other expenses. But when they got into it, it wasn’t enough. The rental itself was going to take most of their cash. And they wouldn’t have enough left over to do the other things they needed to do. There would be lighting and chairs and props, not to mention a cast—and, of course, they would need a known actor as a draw. What a disappointment! But, you know, even if it had worked out, there is little chance that their idea was going to take them where they wanted to go.
Scenario two also has to do with a drama major. While visiting family in New York City, she learns about open auditions for a Broadway play. It’s a bit part, but, if she gets it, it’ll look good on her resume, and she’ll get some valuable experience, working with professional actors under a world-class director. She asks her parents and her professors, and what do they tell her? “Go for it,” they say. “At least show up for the audition.”
What’s the take-away here? It’s easy, isn’t it? We all want to star in our own show. We all want to be the director of our own production. We don’t want the bit part. We want our name on the marquis. We want it to be about us.
What I want to do today is visit with you about the story of your life. I don’t know the details, of course—not like you do—but I know the details of my own story. And I’m guessing there are some ways in which your story and mine are a lot alike. Let me give you four words, if may, that I think capture the story of each and every one of us here. Four words. Are you ready? They are reflection, rebellion, redemption, and reset.
Let’s take the first word: reflection. The Bible says we were all created in the image of God. In Genesis 1:27 we read that “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” What does that mean, to be created in the image of God? We could spend the rest of the morning talking about that, but I want to pare it down as much as I can. And this is what I want to say about it. We were made—you and I—to be image-bearers. We were created to reflect the likeness of God in all we do to all we meet. You might say each of us is to be a mirror of sorts, a looking glass, angled in such a way so as to catch the reflection of our Creator and cast it into view for all to see. That’s our purpose as human beings. That’s our job description. How are we doing?
Not great, right? We don’t want to reflect God; we want to be God. And in our scramble to dislodge him from his throne and make it ours, we have fallen and shattered our mirror. It still reflects the light, but in a broken, distorted way.
That’s where our second word comes in. The first word, remember, is reflection. The second word is rebellion. Rebellion. It’s a part of your story, and it’s a part of mine. But it’s much more extensive than that. It has a long history. It flared up in the Garden of Eden with our first parents. You remember the story. Adam and Eve lived in a literal paradise with everything at their disposal. There was only one restraint: the tree in the midst of the Garden. God had said they were not to eat any of the fruit of that tree. That was the only prohibition.
Enter the serpent. And what did he do? He tricked Eve into thinking that, if she went against God and ate the fruit, even though he had said not to, she could displace God. She could take God’s place. She could be her own god. Turns out it was the same feverish obsession that, long before that fateful day, had motivated the tempter himself. Isaiah 14 is addressed to the king of Babylon, but it could just as easily be the dark lord himself. Once a prince among angels, he was known as Lucifer, a name that means “light bearer.” Isaiah calls him the “Day Star, [the] son of Dawn.” He had lived in elevated splendor, but his arrogance got the best of him. And his envy of God brought him low. “How you are fallen from heaven,” Isaiah says to him. “You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; above the stars of God I will set my throne on high…; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High’” (Isa. 14:12ff.). And he tried. He failed. But he tried.
Doubtless, none of us has such high aspirations! Or do we? Our ambitions may not be on the same scale as Lucifer’s—or even Eve’s—but we have them. We think we are the star of our own story. In our mind, we play the lead role on the stage of our own lives. That’s what Eve wanted. She wanted to play the lead. That’s what Lucifer wanted. He wanted the starring role. And that’s our problem, too. We have forgotten—if we ever knew—just whose story we’re in. We think it’s our story. But it’s not. It’s God’s. The lead role has already been taken.
Let me ask you something. If your life were a stage play—or a movie even—how do you think you would picture it? Do you imagine God taking a walk-on, bit part in your story? Or do you understand that you’ve got the walk-on part in God’s story? Remember the two scenarios we began with? The two guys that wanted to make it big—fast—in their rented venue? And then the other one, with the young woman who was willing to audition for the bit part on the big stage. Which one describes you? Are the star of your own story with God playing a supporting role, or are you in a story that’s bigger than you, with God in the lead and you in the supporting role?
If you’re going to be an image-bearer, if you’re going to be the mirror that reflects the goodness and greatness of God—in other words, if you’re going to fulfill the purpose for which you were created in the first place, if you’re going to play the role you were born for—I’ll tell you which role you’re in.
What we don’t understand is that our life is not the story. Our life is just a scene in the story. The story is God’s; we just get to play a scene in it. And that brings us to our third word: redemption. Your story—the story of your life—begins with reflection. You are a mirror, reflecting the glory of God as you bear his image. But your story continues with rebellion. In a surge of pride, you have cast your mirror to the ground, and now it is in shards. The reflection’s still there, but it’s no longer clear.
Enter Jesus. He is the great mender of broken mirrors. And it just may be that your story could take a turn here, and the reflection restored. The Bible says of Jesus that “he is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb. 1:3). The old King James Version says he is “the express image of his person.” In other words, he did what you and I have failed to do. He kept his mirror intact. There is not a chip on it. He never went off-script. And he bears the image of God perfectly.
Now, go back to 1 Corinthians 15 with me for a minute. That’s the passage we read earlier. First Corinthians 15 is all about the resurrection of Jesus. And it just comes right out and says it plainly, that “in fact Christ has been raised from the dead” (v. 20). “As by a man came death,” it says, “by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (vv. 21f.). Now listen to this part. We’re told that Christ is the first to be raised from the dead, but then, “at his coming”—that is, when he comes again—“those who belong to Christ” will also be raised. Restored. Redeemed. Repaired. Their mirrors in mint condition.
But now watch this. “Then,” the text says. “Then comes the end”—this is the end of the story you see! What will happen? Will Jesus get the Oscar for the best performance by a male in the lead role? Yes. Yes. But look! He doesn’t keep his trophy! Look what happens! Who could have predicted an ending like this? “Then comes the end,” we read, “when he delivers the kingdom to God the Father…. God has put all things in subjection under his feet…. [And] when all things are subjected to him,” what does he do? Read it. Verse 28. When all of that happens, “then the Son himself will also be subjected to him who put all things in subjection under him, that God may be all in all.” You see what’s happening here? Jesus demonstrates whose story this actually is. It is the Father’s story, in which he is willing to play a supporting role.
Now, listen to me. It’s because Jesus was willing to do that that he can redeem you and restore you to your true role in the grand narrative. Unlike Satan, who stole the scene—or tried to—he took his place in God’s story.
And now, we’re ready for the final word. Remember the other three? Reflection. Rebellion. Redemption. There’s a fourth. The fourth word is Reset. When you and I place our faith in Jesus—and by that I mean, when we are ready to take the walk-on part in God’s story instead of thinking of him making a cameo appearance in ours—Jesus does a reset for your life. He repairs the shattered image, and he assigns you a spot on the world’s biggest stage in a story that’s larger than life—larger than your life anyway—and he gives a scene to play in the role you were born for. I urge you: discard the script you have written for you life. That story’s too small for you. And get on stage with God in the limelight. And play the part he gives you. And you’ll find yourself in the greatest story ever told. And now: lights, camera, action. Enter you.
