Blank pages are frightening, particularly if you’re trying to tell a story. They’re full of too many possibilities—who are the characters, what is their role, how does the story end. Unlike a test or an essay for class, there’s no question at the top to provide a guard rail to hold you between the lanes. It’s just an empty road leading in so many directions that, with the wrong turn, you could find yourself lost, wondering where the story was meant to go.
Right now, that’s the question. Where is this story going? The narrative of our lives and of our country seemed set. There would be plot twists, turns of phrase, surprises both joyful and tragic, but the words were there, the tale was just waiting to be read. And we knew we were in the story. We knew our placein the narrative.
But, now, we’re all left wondering how we fit.
Under their self-imposed lockdown, the disciples of Jesus felt the same way. The story they thought they were living ended suddenly. They would not ride with the Messiah to victory. They wouldn’t see the liberation of Jerusalem. They would not see God crush their enemies and set everything right. Instead, there was a real possibility their story might be ending.
Jesus, then, appears behind the locked doors where the disciples have hidden. “Peace,” he says. Then he eats a little bread, a little fish. Perhaps, they might have thought, he’ll tell us now how this story goes. Surely, he’ll tell us the parts we’ll play, what we’re supposed to do, and how this ends.
He doesn’t. He doesn’t tell them anything. And when Peter asks if the old story is the one waiting to be written, Jesus tell them it’s not for them to know what comes next. It’s not for them to know the roles, the length, or the conclusion. He just tells them to go and write the story. No guardrails, no essay questions, go fill the blank pages.
This Easter season we, like the disciples have found ourselves faced with a stack of blank pages. The story which we were once a part of has ended, suddenly. A narrative that included the jobs that paid our bills and the savings against the storms have disappeared. The plans we’d made have been thrown into question. We’ve found ourselves behind our locked doors wondering where we fit, what place we have in this new story, what characters we will play, what we are to do.
We’re not given answers to these questions. If Jesus knows, he’s not telling. Maybe it’s because, like he did with the disciples, he’s leaving it up to us. It’s ours to decide who becomes a part of the story, who is the hero and who is the servant. It’s up to us to figure out how all of this ends and if love truly wins.
Go then, Jesus says, write the story, fill these blank pages.