Is it possible that there is more going on than we can possibly understand? The Apostle Paul claimed that God’s “paths”—his schemes—“are beyond tracing out” (Rom. 11:33). That implies some mystery. Other texts claim each of us is a destiny—a planned, on-purpose being that God wanted to cast in his unfolding play. If this is true, we can’t think about life in terms of making our own story. Instead, we must each find our place in the story being told by God. If that is true, this is a world where God has a purpose and a place for everything. Then success and fulfillment could not be based on personal aggrandizement or actualization, but on obediently finding the position predestined for us by God.

I saw a stage play once in which one of the minor actors had a hard time being a minor actor. He felt he should have had a larger role, so he ended up trying to expand his bit part into a bit more. He walked on and off the stage in an exaggerated way, and his lines were stretched and out of cadence with the other actors. Instead of lending what talent he had to the overall good of the show, his performance hurt it. Successful acting isn’t about whether or not you are noticed or if you have the largest part, but by whether or not you play the role you are asked to play in a way that fulfills the writer’s dream and the director’s instructions.

If we dare to buy into the idea that we are part of God’s story, this becomes a world where both small and great are relevant. True, some folks will always be amazingly bright and talented stars, while others of us are more like “bit” actors—but that distinction is not critical as long as both are essential. We may be different, but we are never insignificant.

THE DOMINO SCENARIO
Some time ago I watched a CNN human-interest piece on a guy in Japan who had set up one million dominoes in a large field house. As thousands gathered to watch, and the cameras were rolling, he knocked over the first domino, and the fun began. It took a long time for all the dominoes to tumble, one hitting the next. I remember thinking, “What if someone had snuck in and pulled a domino or two out of line?” How frustrating would that have been? The guy would have had to start all over!

I couldn’t help but wonder if that isn’t exactly what we believers do to God all the time. Because we don’t take ourselves seriously, because we don’t think we matter; we step out of the game. We slack off or shrink back. Imagine how many times God is left grieving because believers don’t accurately evaluate who they are. Then we end up wasting our lives and forcing God to come up with new strategies (and new people to “place”) for future redemptive gestures in the “field house” of life. The point is, just because we appear to have a minor role, that doesn’t mean it isn’t a critical one.

The Bible is chock-full of stories that exemplify the idea of the seemingly insignificant person changing the world. A young woman named Ruth left her family and the land of her birth to care for the mother of her dead husband. Ruth was a Moabite woman; Naomi, her mother-in-law, was an Israelite. But Ruth’s selfless dedication to Naomi was immovable. She told her, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16). When Ruth landed in Israel with Naomi, they were poverty-stricken. At Naomi’s request, Ruth married a guy who was twice her age in order to survive (the tone of the text suggests he was not an Abercrombie model). The story ends with Ruth giving birth to a son named Obed. Nice story.

Though the story of Ruth is sweet from one standpoint, it is so ordinary—so seemingly unimportant. But then we are surprised. Ruth, it turns out, is the great-grandmother of David, the greatest king in Israel’s history, a man after God’s own heart. The dedication and selfless love David shows in his life mirrors the same selfless commitments his great-grandmother Ruth had. I bet when Ruth met David in eternity and realized the connection, she was shocked. I’m sure she had no idea she was such a central player in God’s kingdom enterprise.

What if this is the way God loves to do things? What if God loves to weave the spectacular out of the ordinary — maybe a generation or more from us? And what if he loves to do it in a way that causes most to miss it—unless we are suspicious of his activity? Maybe being suspicious of God’s activity is what faith really is.