Alice laughed. ‘‘There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.” “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” [Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass]
We who follow Christ have been called to believe impossible things. Why? Because the Storyteller, at whose feet we’re sitting, tends to tell impossible stories. A father hiking up his skirts and running to meet a son who shamed him. A Samaritan pouring oil and mercy on the wounds of his enemy.
The stories Jesus told brought hope for a new way of living, a new kingdom’s rules.
“You have heard it said”: that a King would never be born in a smelly, dirty cave. That God would never walk our dusty roads, or ask an outcast for a cup of water from a well, or feel the searing pain of our sins piercing frail human flesh.
“But I tell you the truth”: that death is not the victor here. That there is Love which knows no bounds, no impossibility. That God has moved heaven and earth in order to give us life, in a story that breaks all of our earthbound rules.
So let’s tell stories that expand the horizons, that challenge others’ understanding of what is and isn’t possible. Look for films that replace revenge with forgiveness. Read and recommend the sort of books that defiantly speak of hope in the midst of suffering. And if you can’t find any books or films—or paintings, or pictures, or plays—that challenge the world’s status quo, well, why not create one?
I can imagine the grin on Jesus’ face at the very thought.
Take heart—the rules of this world have already been broken. So dream impossible things and tell impossible stories. Because when you’re following a King this powerful and playful, who knows what could happen?