Experience

In an article in The Atlantic, Russel Shaw writes:

When my son was a toddler, I realized how much my emotional reactions influenced his. If I showed worry when he fell, he'd wail; if I remained calm, he'd recover. Learning that I could so powerfully influence his mental state was a revelation. This taught me that parenting is about more than just teaching skills; it's about shaping emotions.

Our instinct is to protect our children, but overprotecting can hinder their development. This urge has led to pop-culture mythology around pushy parenting styles, including the “Helicopter Parent,” who flies in to rescue a child in crisis, and the “Snowplow Parent,” who flattens any obstacle in their child’s way.

Lighthouse parents, on the other hand, provide support while allowing their children to learn from their experiences. Like a lighthouse that helps sailors avoid crashing into rocks, Lighthouse Parents provide firm boundaries and emotional support while allowing their children the freedom to navigate their own challenges. The key is learning when to step back and let them find their own way.

The crucial shift is from fixing problems to listening. Listening teaches resilience and communicates trust in our children's abilities. Parenting can be stressful, but by letting them face challenges, we help them build the skills they need to thrive.

Modern life is full of common mishaps such as mistakenly sending a text to the wrong person or confusing a stranger for an acquaintance. In a survey of 2,000 adults, researchers found that frequent blunders include laundry mishaps, accidentally ordering the wrong thing in a restaurant, and putting the wrong destination into the car’s GPS.

The study, conducted by OnePoll, also found that the average adult encounters 84 mishaps a year, amounting to more than one embarrassing error per week. Additionally, 31 percent confessed to repeating the same mistake more than once.

Top Mishaps People Endure in Modern Society:

1. Sent a text to the wrong person
2. Mistook a stranger for someone you knew and greeted them
3. Washed clothes and accidentally shrunk them or turned them to a different color
4. Accidentally sat on the TV remote control and missed a key moment on live TV
5. Prepped a meal for work but forgot to take it
6. Forgot to cancel subscriptions you never use
7. Had your phone go off in a place it should have been on silent
8. Tried to unlock your car before realizing it was someone else’s vehicle
9. Forgot about plans and didn’t show up for an event
10. Bought a piece of furniture but didn’t check the dimensions and it was a lot smaller or larger than you thought

These misfortunes are a part of life, and we can all make them. The findings show it can happen to anyone and everyone can relate to making a mishap.

Despite being the butt of the joke, 45 percent laugh at their misfortunes, while 21 percent felt they had learned something from the experience. In fact, a remarkable 87 percent acknowledged that mistakes and mishaps are simply an unavoidable part of life.

Possible Preaching Angle:

As James says, “We all stumble in many ways” (Jam. 3:2). If we allow ourselves to make honest mistakes, humble ourselves (and maybe even join in the laughter), we are in the best place possible to learn a lesson about humility and grow by allowing others to be imperfect also.

Past generations of Americans viewed God as the basis of truth and morality. Not anymore. A new study shows that most Americans reject any absolute boundaries regarding their morality, with 58% of adults surveyed believing instead that moral truth is up to the individual to decide.

According to findings from pollster Dr. George Barna, belief in absolute moral truth rooted in God’s Word is rapidly eroding among all American adults. This is regardless if they are churched or unchurched, within every political segment, and within every age group. Even among those who do identify God as the source of truth, there is substantial rejection of any absolute standard of morality in American culture.

Perhaps most stunning, this latest research shows a rejection of God’s truth and absolute moral standards by American Christians, those seen as most likely to hold traditional standards of morality. Evangelicals, defined as believing the Bible to be the true, reliable Word of God, are just as likely to reject absolute moral truth (46%). And only a minority of born-again Christians—43%—still embrace absolute truth.

The study found that the pull of secularism is especially strong among younger Americans, with those under age 30 much less likely to select God as the basis of truth (31%), and more likely to say that moral standards are decided by the individual (60%).

As Jeff Meyers writes in his new book, Truth Changes Everything, “We live in a world where we cannot go a single day without hearing that truths are based on how we see things rather than on what exists to be seen. Truth is not ‘out there’ to be found; it is ‘in here’ to be narrated.”

You can read the full study from Arizona Christian University here.

Possible Preaching Angle:

A biblical worldview rests firmly on the idea that Truth can be known. It says that Truth isn't constructed by our experiences and feelings. Rather, a biblical worldview says that Truth exists. It is a person. It is Jesus (John 14:6).

A Glamour magazinevideo asked a number of girls and women on advice they would want from an older person in their life. Here are some of the questions these young women asked:

How do you become who you are today?

What should I not stress about at 14-years-old?

What is the best way to make a decision?

Looking back on your life what did you find most valuable?

What do you do when you realize that your dreams are not actually going to happen?

How do you manage having kids, being married, and having a career?

What is the secret to living a happy life?

Is having children really worth it?

(What are the) secrets to a long and happy marriage?

You can watch the entire 2:30 minute video here.

Possible Preaching Angle:

It is important for mature women to be accessible to answer questions and serve as role models to the young women in our churches. “Older women, likewise, are to be …. teachers of good. In this way they can train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, managers of their households, kind, and submissive to their own husbands …” (Titus 2:3-5).

Shon Hopwood grew up in a Christian home in rural Nebraska. When his high-school basketball career faded and college and the military fell through, he was left with a complete lack of purpose. So, it sounded like a good idea when his best friend suggested they rob a bank.

They robbed five banks with guns. Shon knew it was wrong. Still, he couldn’t stop because of the easy money and party lifestyle that it brought him. It ended when he was arrested by the FBI and sentenced by a federal judge to 12 years in federal prison. He was 23.

Shon took a job in the prison law library. He began learning the law. Over the years he took on fellow prisoners’ cases, writing petitions they would then file in federal courts, including the U.S. Supreme Court. Fellow prisoners began calling him a “jailhouse lawyer.”

His next cell-door neighbor, Robert, would grumble about missing out on the lives of his children and he ranted about a friend who had turned against him and testified at his trial. He said he wished that guy would die. It was clear to Shon that the bitterness of life and prison had consumed him.

Shon said,

One day I walked over to Robert’s cell and watched as he smiled and danced around while sweeping the floor. My first thought was that he had scored some drugs. But when I asked why he seemed so different, he said, ‘Shon, I’m with Jesus now.’ Within days Robert had forgiven the man who had testified against him. Today, Robert is back on his farm with his family, and once a week he treks back into prison to lead a men’s Bible study.

Robert was neither the first nor the last prisoner I saw experience a complete and utter life turnaround. These inmates had a great effect on me because I saw how grace can transform everyone, even prisoners.

Shon was released in 2009, during the heart of the recession, when work was hard to find, especially for a former inmate. But then another grace arrived: He found a position at a leading printer of Supreme Court briefs in Omaha, helping attorneys perfect their briefs.

Shon became engaged but the pastor would not marry them without premarital counseling. During the first session, the pastor asked what they believed about Jesus. Shon said, “When he talked about grace, that free gift of salvation, I listened, especially when he said that I could be forgiven. ‘Yeah, even you, Shon.’ I couldn’t escape the feeling that God had been pursuing me for a long time.”

Shon writes:

In Ephesians 1:7–8, Paul writes that in Christ “we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us.” Grace says we are not defined by our failures and our faults, but by a love without merit or condition. God’s grace was enough to redeem me.

Nearly five years have passed since I made the most important decision of my life: to surrender to this grace. I got married, and my wife also became a believer. We moved to Seattle so I could attend the University of Washington Law School on a full-ride scholarship. Looking back over the course of my life, I can see that although I rarely returned the favor, God hotly pursued me.

Editor’s Note: Today Shon Robert Hopwood is an author, appellate lawyer, and professor of law at Georgetown University Law Center.

Stuart Briscoe preached his first sermon at age 17. He didn’t know much about the topic assigned him by an elder. But he researched the church of Ephesus until he had a pile of notes and three points, as seemed proper for a sermon. Then he stood before the Brethren in a British Gospel Hall and preached.

And preached. And preached. He kept going until he used up more than his allotted time just to reach the end of the first point and still kept going, until finally he looked up from his notes and made a confession.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how to stop.” Briscoe recalled in his memoir that a man from the back shouted out, “Just shut up and sit down.” That might have been the end of his preaching career. But he was invited to preach again the next week. And he continued preaching for seven more decades.

In the process Briscoe became a better preacher, discovered he had a gift, and was encouraged to develop it. He ultimately preached in more than 100 countries around the world and to a growing and multiplying church in America.

When Briscoe died on August 3, 2022, at the age of 91, he was known as a great preacher who spoke with clarity, loved the people he preached to, and a had deep trust in the work of the Holy Spirit.

He once wrote,

My primary concern in preaching is to glorify God through his Son. I’ve worked hard to preach effectively. But I’ve also learned to trust as well. Farmers plow their lands, plant their seed, and then go home to bed, awaiting God’s germinating laws to work. Surgeons only cut; God heals. I must give my full energy to doing my part in the pulpit, but the ultimate success of my preaching rests in God.

The popular Pursuit of Wonder's video considers whether everything happens for a reason. In a fictional piece, a young man contends he has led a good and decent life, but in an instant an earthquake collapses his home and he is hospitalized with serious injuries. He is at a loss as to why.

"I wonder, as I lie here dying in this seemingly reasonless way, what this means. If, I’ve never done anything deserving of such a tragedy, how then could there be any good reason for this event occurring onto me?" He admits his prior beliefs were wrong:

That every time I said, “Everything happens for a reason.” Every time I heard it and believed it. Every time I seemingly found a reason for why something happened to me … I meant that it happened for a good reason. A just reason. I meant that there was some considerate order to the universe, and everything in my story was placed there to allow me to become the winner of it. But how foolish was I to think this? That I was somehow special. Somehow important. And that somehow the universe agreed and gave me immunity from the fact that no one wins this thing.

In spite of life's chaos and tragedies, the narrator still chooses to believe everything in his life happens for a reason. However, one day the reasons will dry up. "And when this moment comes, there will be no ink left to write a reason for running out of ink. And so, until then, I say I will lie here writing in this hospital bed, revolting against the hopelessness, creating every last reason I can."

You can watch the video here (3 mi. 13 sec. - 6 min. 16 sec.).

Possible Preaching Angle:

The universe can be a frustratingly random place where “accidents happen.” Like Job, people struggle to find meaning in evil events. However, only the Christian has a Father in heaven who “causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Rom. 8:28)”

What is the goal of life? To accumulate the most money. This is what one can learn from reading the obituary of Reuben Klamer, the creator of the board game, The Game of Life, who died September 14, 2021, at 99.

When The Game of Life was introduced, in 1960, the purpose was to earn the most wealth. The way you got there was simple enough—by going to college, getting a job, buying insurance, saving for retirement. That was “indicative of what sold in that era,” a former Hasbro VP said.

Over time, designers realized that the game didn’t reflect consumers’ changing views of #lifegoals. So they gave it a big update in 2007, allowing players to score points for virtuous deeds like saving an endangered species, opening a health-food chain, and recycling. And instead of starting the game at point A and finishing at point Z, there is no fixed path: You decide how you want to spend your time.

One question that popped up is: If the popular view of what matters in life changed so much in less than 50 years, who’s to say it won’t shift again in the next 50? How will you win life in 2057?

But as Jill Lepore wrote in The New Yorker, the redesign teams always had a hard time addressing the fundamental criticism of the game — that the only way to reward a player for virtuous acts was with money: “Save an Endangered Species: Collect $200,000. Solution to Pollution: $250,000. Open Health-Food Chain: $100,000.”

And so, the company’s 2007 overhaul, the Game of Life: Twists & Turns, was almost existential. Instead of putting players on a fixed path, it provided multiple ways to start out in life — but nowhere to finish. “This is actually the game’s selling point; it has no goal,” Ms. Lepore wrote. “Life is … aimless.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

What is the meaning of life? This is the question that many of today’s young people wrestle with. Many of them do not find a truly satisfying answer that satisfies their deepest longing for significance. Only in Christ do we find the answers to life, our purpose in the universe, and what awaits in eternity.

The pleasure of taste starts with the taste buds and ends with electrical signals reaching the reward centers in the brain. This is not just true of people; it is true of animals as well. All animals have taste buds, including those that live under the water. The catfish, for example, has taste buds virtually all over its skin, earning it the nickname “the swimming tongue.” Flies, spiders, and fruit flies have taste buds on their feet.

Animals taste and enjoy their food as much as we do. Watch a squirrel closely next time you come across one squatting on the lawn holding an acorn with its two hands and nibbling the insides. You’ll see it nibbling away with its teeth quite rapidly. What you don’t see is the tongue inside the mouth that is busy manipulating the little bits of food and tasting the ingredients, swallowing what is delicious and even just acceptable.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Taste and see that the Lord and his Word are good (Psa. 34:8; Psa. 19:10). God invites us to experience him and his Word as a pleasurable experience which feeds our soul.

On August 11, 2017, the world's oldest man passed away, just a month short of his 114th birthday—making him one of the 10 longest lived men since modern record keeping began. If you knew nothing else about him than this, you might expect to discover that he had led a peaceful life, free of fear, grief, and danger.

The truth is the opposite. The man in question was Yisrael Krystal, a Holocaust survivor. Born in Poland in 1903, he survived for years in the Lodz Ghetto, and was then transported to Auschwitz. In this ghetto, his two children died. In Auschwitz, his wife was killed. When Auschwitz was liberated, he was a walking skeleton weighing a mere 82 pounds. He was the only member of his family to survive.

He was raised as a religious Jew and stayed so all his life. When the war was over, with his entire world destroyed, he married again, this time to another holocaust survivor. They had children. They moved to Israel and centered in Haifa, there he began again, setting up in the confectionary business, as he had done in Poland before the war. He made sweets and chocolate. He became an innovator. If you have ever had Israeli orange peel covered in chocolate, liqueur chocolates shaped like little bottles, and covered with silver foil, you are enjoying one of the products he originated. Those who knew him said he was a man with no bitterness in his soul. He wanted people to taste sweetness.

In both 1929 and 2008, economic experts everywhere claimed to know exactly what they were doing, yet not a single person could fix the series of mistakes that crashed the world’s economy.

After these financial crises, many were rightfully furious--at the fraudulent bankers, who systematically destroyed the world economy for their own gain; at the Wall Street brokers who received bailouts and little to no jail time, while millions lost everything.

To avoid future financial catastrophes, a library in Edinburgh, Scotland has compiled a collection of sensible economic literature that aims to educate the next generation of economists. The Library of Mistakes contains over 2,000 books, all relating to economics and finance. Book titles sizzle with the message of it all; Crash of the Titans, The Crunch, Debt Shock, Too Big to Fail, and The Manipulators.

The Library of Mistakes was inspired by the 2008 Great Recession, which served as a perfect example of how, according to the library’s curators, “smart people keep doing stupid things.” The library’s curators argue that the only way to build a strong economy is to learn from our mistakes.

Ultimately, the Library of Mistakes encourages self-reflection and the serious study of history. In the wise words of George Santayana, “… for those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” And given the turbulent state of the world today, such advice could not be more timely.

Possible Preaching Angle:

God has written the historical sections of the Bible for this very reason--so that we would learn not to repeat the mistakes of others. The clear message is “don’t let this happen to you.” “Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come” 1 Cor. 10:11).

In CT magazine, Gregory E. Reynolds, shares how he went from being a hippie to a pastor:

I grew up in a liberal Congregational church. During my junior year of high school, my mother came to genuine faith at a Baptist church where the gospel was preached. As for me, I remained uninterested in Christianity. And by the time I went off to college, I was falling in with the ’60s counterculture. I soon affirmed the moral and spiritual relativism that reflected the counterculture’s blend of Eastern religiosity and American optimism.

In 1970, I left school to join a commune in Oregon. During my summer there, we hiked, camped, and climbed among the Three Sisters Wilderness of the Cascade Range. We also enjoyed many deep discussions about Eastern religion and the meaning of life.

Ultimately, however, life in the commune was deeply demoralizing. If nothing else, it washed away my naïve confidence in the inherent goodness of humanity. I still believed, for instance, that sex was meant for marriage—or at least for serious relationships. But that norm was flouted everywhere I looked. I believed, too, in an ethic of working hard and paying my own way. But many members of the commune were essentially mooching off their parents. This lifestyle showed up in their chronic neglect of chores like washing dishes or cleaning the toilet.

The breaking point, for me, came during a weeklong music festival in Portland, known as Vortex I. But the depths of depravity I witnessed there convinced me I had to get away. I returned to the Boston area literally singing the blues. I had gone to Oregon in search of peace and love, but now I felt the weight of my ideals collapsing. This was a dark time for many committed counterculture enthusiasts. Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix had both recently died from drug overdoses.

Several days later, I sat despairingly in my room, realizing my own desperate condition: I was the problem—not the “establishment,” not my hedonistic friends in Oregon. My heart was dark with selfishness. I knew I was living for my own pleasure and satisfaction. I looked at a picture of Jesus I’d received from a friend in the commune. In his mind, Jesus was the quintessential guru. The picture showed Jesus smiling benignly. But his bleeding heart reminded me of the Crucifixion. Then the realization stole over me: Jesus had died for sinners just like me.

Almost immediately, I grabbed my Bible and turned serendipitously to the book of Jonah, where I read: “But Jonah ran away from the Lord …” (Jonah 1:3-4). This was me: fleeing from a God who graciously let the Woodstock generation swallow me up and spit me back out, all so he could get my attention.

From there, I read the Bible voraciously, quickly latching onto John 8:31–32: “To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, ‘If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’” I wanted to tell everyone the liberating good news of Jesus Christ.

My spiritual and intellectual hunger led me to study with Francis Schaeffer at his L’Abri Fellowship in Switzerland. Here I discovered the rich heritage of Reformed theology, which launched me toward Westminster Theological Seminary and 40 years of ministry in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.

Sixties revolutionary fervor did nothing but plunge me into despair. Now, thanks to Christ, my hope is built on solid rock, not sinking sand.

In a recent edition of CT magazine, Apilang Apum shares her conversion story and her fear of letting her Indian parents know of her new faith:

Growing up in India, I never imagined I would end up following Jesus Christ. I belong to the Adi tribe and members of my family practiced a traditional animistic religion. I considered myself an omnist—someone who believes in all religions. On some level, this even included Christianity. Before my conversion, I occasionally went to church services at the invitation of friends and I would celebrate holidays like Christmas. I also frequently read a Gideons New Testament Bible.

But all the while, I kept idols of all the deities, including the Hindu gods, Buddha, and Jesus Christ. And I visited a variety of places of worship: Hindu temples, a Buddhist monastery, and a gangging, where Adi people pray.

In 2008, a friend invited me to join an evangelistic youth camp. I remember asking one of the speakers whether a non-Christian can find a place in heaven. He replied that one can only enter the kingdom of heaven by accepting Jesus Christ as one’s personal Savior.

As someone who had read parts of the Bible before, I was familiar with stories of God throwing all who did not believe in him into hell on the final Day of Judgment. And I was scared of being tormented in a fiery place for all eternity. Driven by a desire to escape that punishment, I decided to accept Christ as my savior. In hindsight, I can see how God, in his grace, led me to the truth despite my shallow understanding of the Bible and Christianity in general.

In my region of India, many people perceive Christianity as a Western religion and therefore a threat to indigenous culture and identity. Christian conversion also involves giving up certain rituals that are tightly woven into the fabric of local society, which is viewed by some as an irrevocable loss for “tribal” cultures.

All of this made me quite uneasy about professing my faith openly and telling my parents that I had accepted Jesus. Knowing that this news would make them unhappy, I decided to keep my faith a secret. While away at college I attended church on a regular basis, but I stopped going whenever I came home, lacking the courage to practice my faith in their presence.

A turning point came in February 2013, when I underwent major heart surgery. As I lay in my sickbed, my parents and relatives got a firsthand look at the love and care offered by the Christian community. My church and my believing friends helped me financially. This got the attention of my parents, who began to appreciate the value of Christianity. Neither of my parents became Christians, but they no longer had any problem with my conversion.

During this period of illness, God helped me realize the importance of living a purposeful life. I saw that what matters most is how I live—not how long I live. Serving my community became the way to fulfill the Bible’s second Great Commandment: to love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Mark 12:31).

The more I studied the Bible, the more I learned that the primary reason for being a Christian is not merely going to heaven when you die but is participating in God’s work of establishing and growing his kingdom. I’m always astonished at God’s amazing work in my life. There have been obstacles to overcome, but riding along these bumpy roads has made me stronger, and God catches me every time I fall.

Editor’s Note: Apilang Apum is an assistant professor of economics at Jomin Tayeng Government Model Degree College in Roing, India

Poet Amy B Hunter writes:

Five years ago I had emergency surgery. My sister, a professor with final exams to give, was getting married in less than a week. Yet she drove from New York City to Massachusetts in a snowstorm to see me in the hospital. No phone call would reassure her that I was alive. She had to see me with her own eyes.

Sometimes the demand to see is not doubt. Sometimes it is even love.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Thomas wanted proof of the resurrected Christ. Thomas’ words, “My Lord and my God!” is the high point of John’s Gospel. No one else has offered such devotion or named Jesus as God. Thomas held out for a personal experience of Jesus on his own terms.

While teaching at the University of Pennsylvania, Dr. Tony Campolo once turned an ordinary lecture into an unforgettable lesson. He asked an unsuspecting student sitting in the front row, "Young man, how long have you lived?" The student answered his age. Tony responded, "No, no, no. That's how long your heart has been pumping blood. That's not how long you have lived."

Tony Campolo then told the class about one of the most memorable moments of his life. In 1944, his fourth-grade class took a field trip to the top of the Empire State Building. It was the tallest building in the world at the time. When nine-year-old Tony got off the elevator and stepped onto the observation deck overlooking New York City, time stood still. He said, "In one mystical, magical moment I took in the city. If I live a million years, that moment will still be part of my consciousness, because I was fully alive when I lived it."

Tony turned back to the student. "Now, let me ask you the question again. How long have you lived?” The student sheepishly said, “When you say it that way, maybe an hour; maybe a minute; maybe two minutes.”

According to psychologists Matthew Killingsworth and Daniel Gilbert, the average person spends 46.9 percent of their time thinking about something other than what they're doing in the present moment. We're half-present half the time, which means we're half-alive.

Sally-Lloyd Jones, the author of the popular Jesus Storybook Bible for Children, tells the following story about visiting the Museum of Modern Art in New York City:

A few years ago, I overheard someone commenting on a piece of [modern] non-representational art. I think it was a Rothko [a 20th century American abstract painter]. "My child could to that!" someone said. I take that as a compliment.

“My child could do that.” But really, isn't that the point? Artists like Rothko were specifically drawn to children's art. Picasso once said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”

The power of a child's art is defined by what they can't do--by their lack. They know they can't do it. And as a result, their art is not about showing off skill or expertise. It's coming from somewhere else. It's all heart ... A child is physically not able to master [pencil or paints]. They struggle to depict things--and every line has heart ... The power of the art of a child comes not from their ability or their strength. It comes from their weakness, their not being able, their vulnerability.

Devin Kelly looks forward every year to meeting his running friends at Farmdaze. Every February at a farm in Brooklet, Georgia, a 24-hour ultra-marathon event is run. Along with the pig roasts and folk music, some runners cover up to 100 miles in a single day, others a fraction of that. Farmdaze is a place of grace:

… a place that calls itself a race but is really everything that a race isn’t. (It is) an event that lets people give up if they want, that doesn’t shame them for it. (It) lets them become present in the story that is, simply all of us trying to love all of us …

Originally, Kelly ran competitively for personal pride and for his father, who would travel long distances to see him and his brother run. He loved running because it always meant something.

During his most recent race Kelly was gruelingly pushing himself to reach the 100 miles. He said he found himself alone, “under a field of stars, soaking wet, skin steaming. I tried to see the stars but my headlamp’s glare made it impossible. So, I turned it off and offered myself to the dark. What is the point of all of this, I asked myself, what is the … point?”

Suddenly, almost like a bolt of lightning, Kelly

… felt partly empty, without purpose. ... The truth is: I wanted to feel more. ... There was so much distance between what I felt and what I was supposed to feel. It made me sad … I had believed in what society told me would happen: that I would push through a challenge and emerge, new and strong, where love was. But I was left instead with the deep, profound emptiness knowing entirely for certain that what you were told by society was wrong. ... What happens if the stories we tell ourselves about our lives leave us lonely, wrestling with meaning? What then?