The Ultimate Narrative

By Alex Stakos

Some kids have make-believe friends. I had an imaginary studio audience. When something eventful happened, this fictitious audience would applaud or cry or laugh along with me—in my head, of course. I was under no illusion that this audience was real, but I loved it. It made my life (my movie, my sitcom, my game show— whatever it happened to be that day) much more exciting.

At a young age I looked at life as a narrative. I understood myself as having the role of the main character or the protagonist. But in front of a wider camera lens—one that captures the bigger picture—am I still the protagonist?

It turns out that “believable characters” in movies are made in our image: They’re sinners, too!

When God made man, He made him in His image and likeness. In story writing, we inevitably make characters in our own image. We might try to create characters that fit our own idea of perfection, but those characters don’t end up seeming real or relatable to us.

One time, I was working on a script for a university class and before we had even begun mapping out plot points, we were instructed to develop our main characters. I decided to base one of my main characters around some of my own personality traits, thinking it would make things easier. After all, I’m a real person.

It’s funny that we assume we know everything about ourselves. The truth is that we don’t. We have this warped, subjective view of who we really are. We lie to ourselves daily, justifying and rationalizing our faults. My professor calls this warped view, “our ideal self.” It’s the self that we are when we are at our best—the “superhero version” of who we are.

Writing myself into a character turned out to be harder than I thought, especially when I started dealing with the questions about how this character behaves under pressure and what her dramatic need is.

A dramatic need is essentially a character flaw. It’s the aspect of a person that changes in a successful dramatic script. The problem with pinpointing my dramatic need was that I would have to place myself at the start of a story. I would have to decide what was wrong with me and what needed to change. Most characters don’t even know what they need at the start of a story.

I never realized how biased we, as human beings, are about our own shortcomings until I had to pick my biggest and best flaw and exploit it. This is where it’s tempting to come up with the kinds of flaws we toss out at job interviews. I work too hard. I care too much. But those kinds of “flaws” aren’t real, and they certainly don’t make for believable characters.

It was when I was writing about how my character behaves under pressure that I realized I needed some additional insight—a more objective point of view. I had typed out that, in stressful situations, Adrian (my character) takes on a leadership role. If I could have laughed in my own face, I would have done it. I was being dishonest and I knew it.

I messaged my best friend and gave him very specific instructions. I asked him to summarize my biggest flaw in one word and text me that word. He replied with the word “emotions.” It was vague, but it gave me an idea of what Adrian’s dramatic need should be. I decided that Adrian lets her emotions take over and puts too much focus on feelings. She is quick to give up and let her negative thoughts consume her. When something overwhelms her, she runs away from it.

Benefiting from God’s Law

Adrian taught me a lot, not the least of which was that believable characters are liars. They lie to themselves about what they’re really like because they’re afraid to be flawed. This deceitfulness makes for a more authentic character because it’s true for the majority of people. No one wants to believe he or she is sinful or bad or flawed, because that stinks.

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

God’s Word pierces us where it hurts: our ego. If it weren’t for the Law, we would never know what sin is. The Bible offends a lot of people because it’s brutally honest. God doesn’t mess around when it comes to telling us the truth about our sinful nature. The primary purpose of the Law (The Ten Commandments) is to reveal our sin. Our need for forgiveness is made clear in that we fall short over and over again!

Nevertheless, I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law. For I would not have known what coveting really was if the law had not said, 'You shall not covet.'

But that’s not the end of the story. The Bible shows us our sin to bring us to our knees in humble repentance so that we’re prepared for the other side of the double-edged sword: the Gospel— the Good News!

Benefiting from God’s Gospel

The Gospel is Good News, proclaimed for sinners. It is declared for the broken and for the deeply, deeply flawed! We finally get the right picture: Because we are desperately broken, we need a Savior. And the Gospel is there to save us, proclaiming that Jesus lived the perfect life we couldn’t. He took our sin upon Himself and suffered in our place. He became both the perfect Antagonist and Protagonist. Because of Jesus, we no longer have any sort of “dramatic need” in God’s eyes because He meets our greatest need with forgiveness.

A character who is afraid to acknowledge her flaws and admit to a dramatic need is not benefiting from God’s Law. And that’s something I had to come to terms with in picking apart my own character to construct Adrian’s: I’m imperfect and I don’t need to hide my character flaws—my sins. I need to acknowledge them, repent of them and fight them or, rather, join the ranks of the One who fights for me! That’s what happens as we live in our baptism, hear the Word of Law and Gospel, and feast at the Supper. This is how Jesus makes us part of His Story.

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

It’s like Martin Luther says: We are simul justus et peccator. We are simultaneously saint and sinner. In other words, we are both the antagonist and protagonist in our own narratives. A dual character as such will inevitably battle his antagonistic (or sinful) nature daily, while embracing his life as a follower of Christ, who intercedes and fights for us. Because of Jesus, we will one day experience an eternal happily-ever-after type ending to our narrative—the ultimate narrative, the bigger story—a story where we aren’t the hero but, more fittingly, the one in dire need of salvation who is made righteous in Christ!

Alex Stakos is a member of St. Matthew Lutheran Church in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. She loves sound theology and a good cheeseburger.