god, not God.

Fiction vs. Reality.

I’ve said it once or twice that writing fiction is so much fun because I get to be like God—in an imaginary sort of way.
And that seems legit on the surface.
I create people and situations and stir my little finger in the pot of circumstances.
Complete control is mine, all mine (insert sinister laugh here).
I decide who is married, smart, funny, happy, evil ... my choice.
Hopes, dreams, desires ... all mine.
I choose their home, or lack of one.
My character’s quirks are my creation.
I decide whether they succeed or fail,
Whether they live or die.
Just like God, right?
Well, not quite.
There’s a missing piece.
The piece de resistance, if you will.

None of my characters has free will.
They cannot choose for themselves what they do or the path to take.
I am not influenced by what I think they would want.
I am a dictatorial kind of “god”.
My will is paramount over everyone and everything I write.

God is not like that.
I think that’s the most amazing thing about God.
Even though He is all-powerful,
He allows us to make choices.
We choose the people we associate with.
We choose how we spend our time,
And what we do with our one precious life.
And we even choose whether to believe He exists.
He steps back and lets us.
Knowing that some of us will make terrible choices and even deny Him.
It’s a chance He’s willing to take.
Because …
God doesn’t want minions.
He wants children.

God doesn’t use us for a good story,
He loves us and desires a relationship with us.
He wants the story of our lives to go on through eternity with Him.
The story that never ends.
And that’s better than any novel ever written.