Last week, I took my oldest daughter to see Enchanted. Yes, it was good and we had fun, but that’s not the point.
The theater shares a parking lot with a mall, so I assumed parking would be at a premium due to the post-Christmas shopping madness. I made sure we arrived early to be in the theater with plenty of time to spare. I hate missing the previews, but that’s not the point.
One of the previews was for Prince Caspian. I had already watched the preview online, but there is something special about seeing it on the big screen. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe hadn’t quite lived up to my expectations, but it was still good and I’m looking forward to the series’ continuation. Once again…not the point.
As the preview drew to a close, my soul swelled. Something deep in me wants not only to experience great stories, but to tell them as well. As a pastor, as a Christian, I want to be one that experiences, lives, and tells a great Story. Stories hold deep beauty and truth, whether they be fiction or a retelling of actual events.
Since seeing that preview, I’ve decided that I don’t read enough fiction. I only read eight works of fiction last year; as I look back at them, I read each one because there was some kind of extra motivation to read it. It’s almost as if I’ve operated with an unspoken understanding that fiction doesn’t have a point. What a pity.
I’m not big into New Year’s resolutions, but I will make one. My nightstand is going to be a resting place for more pointless works of fiction, for more beauty and truth. I usually am reading 3-4 books at a time, and I’m adjusting my habits to always have something story related in the mix — whether a novel, or perhaps a biography or an anthology.
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