Two things have solidified my understanding of the sovereignty of God. The first was a Seminary class on the theology of prayer. The second was writing a novel.
The Seminary class makes sense. Praying was literally part of my homework. And the more I sought God in prayer, the more attuned I was to the many ways He nurtures and directs my life according to His purposes and for His glory.
But writing a novel? Where’s the sovereignty of God in that?
When I wrote my first novel, I had to coordinate details about the plot, characters, and world. I needed to know my main character, Justin, intimately. What was his backstory? What did he want most? What did he fear most? Who were the other characters, and what was his relationship with each of them? Who did he love most?
I also had to know about my world, the futuristic dystopian kingdom of Imperia. What was the government like? How did technology work? What were the social classes?
And finally, I had to know my plot points. What events happened throughout the novel, and in what order? What were my inciting incident, my midpoint, and my climax?
These details are important. You can’t tell a story without knowing the who, the where, and the what. But these details are not, in themselves, a story. Not yet. My story needed something else in order to work: it needed the why. It needed purpose.
So, I took my character, world, and plot details and drew lines of meaning through them all. Because a story is not just a random series of events. A story is the curated sharing of events and characters for a specific purpose. If there’s no purpose, there’s no story.
That means that (1) the author must be selective in which events and characters they share and (2) every part of the story must serve a greater purpose. Every part must matter.
It wasn’t enough that my world had advanced technology. I needed to communicate what Justin’s relationship with that technology was, especially when it was used to harm people.
It wasn’t enough that Justin’s mentor had been sentenced to death. I needed to communicate how his mentor’s values had resulted in that conviction, and why Justin’s attempts to save his life violated those values.
It wasn’t enough that someone created a disease that could target only the lowest class of society. I needed to communicate why this disease would ultimately compel Justin to sacrifice his greatest desire, and why that was the only right decision he could make.
Essentially, I had to know why everything mattered. If Justin didn’t learn and struggle and grow and change as a result of the story events, then I didn’t really have a story.
God is an author, too. The Master Author. The Supreme Storyteller. And the laws of story—specific events that serve a specific purpose—apply to the stories God tells, too.
In fact, these “story laws” exist because God, first and best of all storytellers, created them.
When I craft stories that matter and share them with others, I’m reflecting Him. The stories He’s telling in my life, and the stories He’s telling in your life, are full of curated events and characters and settings that God has lovingly brought together for His own good purposes.
We don’t always see or understand God’s purposes behind the events of our lives. Justin, when his mentor was sentenced to death, or when his brother tried to kill him, or when he became a fugitive of the kingdom, didn’t understand the reasons behind those events either. He struggled through pain and hardship and never saw the author’s hand directing the course of his life.
But that’s okay. He didn’t need to know the plan. Because I, the author and cultivator of his story, did. I knew what I was doing in his story, and I knew why I was doing it.
And you know what? God is the master storyteller. Sometimes, as a flawed author, I make mistakes in my storytelling. I include difficult events or meaningless pain that doesn’t serve the purpose of the story. But God doesn’t do that. He doesn’t make mistakes in His storytelling.
Every good thing and every bad thing that happens in my life is shaped into beautiful purpose by my Author. He controls my days. He oversees my relationships. He directs my steps. He knows my worries. He carries my tears. He sees my hurts.
And through it all, He is always, always, working His beautiful purpose in my life.
That’s how writing a novel taught me about the sovereignty of God.