Living with the Size of Your Life
On billboards all across the greater Lansing area are pictures of people looking suitably impressed with themselves accompanied by the huge headline "Every Spartan Has a Saga." A Spartan, for those of you who do not live in Michigan, is a person who goes to Michigan State University, which can be found about two miles from my house. I started noticing these billboards a few months ago and my immediate reaction was "I very much doubt that." A story? Maybe. A saga? Probably not.
These billboards are indicative of a pernicious trend in American media and culture that makes us think that a normal life is no life at all, that to be true, complete human beings we must be doing something incredible or admirable at all times. You see this in advertising of all sorts. This message is disseminated in TV shows and movies and on the internet (aside: I'm done capitalizing internet no matter what the Chicago Style Manual and my spellcheck say). You can see it in the rampant overuse and misuse of the word "epic" to describe everything from an epic weekend to an epic fail.
Yes, a lot of that is tongue-in-cheek, at least for adults (I hope). But there is this underlying message in our culture that says every one of us is super-duper epically special. But if we're all that special, then no one is special, right? If every Spartan has a saga, then doesn't every Spartan merely have a story? And likely a fairly boring story at that?
Just saying something is epic doesn't make it so. Just changing your vocabulary to incorporate as much hyperbole as possible doesn't actually make your life any more interesting. But the big question is, why do so many people feel the need to present their lives as far more interesting and amazing than they are?
I have never felt like I could satisfactorily answer the question "So what's new in your life?" or its close cousin "What are you up to?" (This is a favorite of nosey baristas who feel for some reason that they need to make a fakey "personal" connection with every customer. But that's another rant.) What have I been up to? What I'm always up to. I get up, work, eat, work, maybe do some laundry or cleaning, work, play with and feed my son, sew, maybe read a bit or watch a DVD, spend time with my husband, write, and go to bed. Every day. That's my "saga."
This does not bother me. I'm happy with the size of my life (which, truth be told, is probably the size of most people's lives). I don't feel I'm lacking anything. My life may not be epic. But neither is yours.
I couldn't agree more and love things the way they are. Mom
“This message is disseminated in TV shows and movies and on the internet [SIC].”
And from pulpits at megachurches and aspiring megachurches across the land.
I think part of the answer to the “why?” question is that, if this world and this life are all you’ve got, then you better strive to make it epic. Or if your contributions in this world will determine the “size of your mansion” in the next, you also better strive to make it all epic. But if God uses the foolish things of this world to shame the wise, and if God’s Word tells us to enjoy the work of our hands, carry out our vocations, and live at peace with everyone, as if that is a life that pleases God, then clearly epic is the wrong thing for which to shoot.
Dangerously close to holifying, I know, but hey—I'm a pastor.
And really, there’s nothing sadder than describing your life in terms that make it sound bigger and more amazing than it is. Seriously, your son Jeffery just works for the Parks Dpt.
Actually, Pastor Zach, I had wanted to include something like what you say in the blog post, but I couldn't get it to fit the flow and I would never have said it as well as you did, so I'm glad you holified it. :)
"So...THAT'S your cousin!"