Hunger Games, Hungry Souls

True confessions.  I am completely sucked into the Hunger Games books. John tried to talk to me about something the other day; he gave up and came back later.  I never even heard him the first time.  I was in the trees with Rue and the mocking jays.  The story engulfs me every time I turn on the kindle.  I have to know what happens to these characters.  At the same time, every time I turn the page something utterly dark, heartbreaking, and disturbing is transpiring.  Through excellently crafted; told in a way that rivets my imagination.   It is shockingly dis-topian .  I am still in the middle of the trilogy.   If I want a fairy tale ending, the odds are not in my favor. (See what I did there?)

I like fairy tales.  I like them a lot. I am an idealist.  I have a near unhealthy attachment to happy endings.   I like to think of how things should be.   Good should always win.  Laughter and love should always triumph. If I were running things, everything would always be happily ever after. It is odd that I am drawn to this story of pain, injustice, futility and want.   I construct happy endings and pretty pictures in my life, in my head and in my surroundings.  Why do I repeatedly turn and re-enter this arena of depravity?

In part, I am a sucker for excellent story-telling, which this book has in spades.Suzanne Collins has talent.  Mostly, though, I wait for something that points toward redemption.  I need  something that makes all the suffering worth while.  I can't stop because, to me the story does not make sense with out that.

It seems as though this  need to seek the happy ending stands hard-wired into my soul.  I suspect that I share that trait with a few billion others on the planet was well.  In my fairy tale universe:  Ultimately powerful, never-ending,  utterly good God = unlimited supply of happy endings. Isn't God in the business of looking out for His people, rewarding them with all sorts of happy-endings in a world that so badly needs them?

Yes. and No.

Listen to my friend Matt Chandler explain:

John the Baptist followed God, and got beheaded because of a stripper.  Mary followed God and watched her son die a gruesome death on the cross.  Noah followed God and was ridiculed and stuck in tight quarters with animal poo. Disciples were martyred. Paul was imprisoned.  Church fathers were persecuted.   Most often things work out well for us.  Sometimes though, the odds are not in our favor.  

 When we are turned down for the job, again.  When we do our best to make things right, and fall woefully short.  When the healing doesn't come.  When the death does come.  When things just don't seem to be working out for us, one redemption story stands as ENOUGH.  

The resurrection of Jesus is the beginning of the redemption we hunger for. The good news of the Gospel is that it will always be enough to feed our starving souls.  

One Hand, Two Hands

 I read this book with my kids tonight.  (Like their mom,  they are always excited for new libros...)  The jacket of the book boasts "whimsical words" and "joy-filled illustrations" that teach a message of servant hood.   On that level, the book delivers. 

The kids enjoyed the beginning of the book with it's emphasis on silly movement and a slight gross-out factor (reference to "stinky cheese") peeking their interest.  Colorful pictures also helped.  My three-year- old did not grasp the illustrator's use of pretend play.  She thought the little girl in the story befriended live animals in her back yard, and so the giant bear doing a cannonball into a kiddie-pool caused some concern... Thankfully, she was able to suspend her disbelief.

When the story turned from silliness to service, it sparked a discussion that made me wish Lucado had devoted more than the last few pages of the book to his major point.  The "everyday" things I do to help out really do matter.   They are seen.  They are crucial to God, to others, and to ourselves.  My six-year-old's favorite part of the book was the end where readers are given space to ponder what their hands can do to serve.  "More books should give you space to think," he said.  Who can argue?

Abi wanted to know why the book mentions prayer, since our hands are still when we pray.  She remarked, "that doesn't fit."  Oh, little one, maybe it does.  Maybe, just maybe, the most formative conversations we have with the Almighty are intimately connected with the acts of love and kindness we share.