The power of metanarrative

aka-seeing a bigger picture

The release of the first season of The Rings of Power has sparked multiple conversations with friends.¹ A few I’ve been able to have in person and a few over Voxer.² Toward the end of the season, my friend Phy and I had a long discussion about the power of metanarrative or the bigger story that provides meaning for our lives. (Stick with me for a few paragraphs even if you don’t want to watch the series. I promise this is for you too.) 

For instance, Bronwyn and Arondir aren’t “special.” They don’t have special powers. They aren’t famous. They aren’t influential. Their circumstances put them in a place where people don’t want to be. Bronwyn’s people are always under suspicion beyond their ancestors sided with Morgoth; they fought with evil instead of against it. The expectations are low. 

And yet, they were the ones that rallied the villages against invasion. They convinced (most of) the people to stand and fight when the odds looked impossible. And they almost triumphed. Even in the face of loss, they kept their integrity. (And each other. I was going to be really mad at the show’s writers if that had not been the case.) 

It would have been easy for them to discount what they could do because it seemed small. And that temptation isn’t just there for just fictional characters. Good art reveals the truth about life by unfolding it before our eyes. If we wanted a sermon, we’d look for one, right? Most of us are ordinary, normal people. We aren’t famous. We aren’t influential (at least not to the masses). We aren’t Galadriel, as much as we might love her. Instead we’re a Harfoot. Or we’re Bronwyn. And that’s ok. 

In the kingdom, Bronwyn is as valuable as Galadriel. God invites all of His people to participate in the work He’s doing in the world. The work is mostly ordinary work. Jesus came and lived a life that remains the model for all of us. It was a small life: local and embodied. God builds His kingdom on these small things. 

This week, in the intern gathering at church, we talked about the importance of small things in ministry. Sure, you might get a few minutes on a stage or with a microphone, but 98% of the work, no matter who you are, is the stuff nobody sees. It’s bending to wipe up the dead bug with a Kleenex so that it’s not still on the floor. 

These small ordinary tasks become overwhelming though. Day after day, we can get caught up in the pattern on the floor and never look up at the vast cathedral that surrounds us. Wiping up the dead bugs or changing diapers or filing papers or listening to a friend’s problems only make sense when you can locate your story inside a bigger story. A bigger story is the only way the mundane work makes sense, the only way it’s worth anything. It’s the only way one shouldn’t just quit doing it. 

Can you place yourself in the story? Is there meaning to your most annoying work? I believe that God sees every little detail of the universe: our lives, distant stars, volcanoes erupting at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. The cosmos is swept along in a conflict that God will win. It will end. And then true life happens.³ All of my work and all of your work fits into that work that God is doing. It matters in ways we might not be able to comprehend.

Sweeping narratives can show us how our tiny, seemingly inconsequential work comes together with all the other inconsequential work to make something big. I’m grateful that stories give us that. 

1. Apologies if you’re tired of hearing me talk about this. You could just watch it and join in in the comments.

2. I really truly love Voxer. If you’ve never used it, it might be worth a try.

3. Reading The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis changed my idea of heaven forever. Another book was Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright.