We live in an age that has forgotten the larger story of God.  All of life is now segmented into millions of little stories.  No wonder we feel so insignificant.  My own little story matters a great deal to me, and maybe to my children someday.  But to my next-door neighbors?  They don’t know me and don’t care to know my story.  They are concerned only with their own.

What is my own personal story line?  At times I see a tragedy:  things are always going wrong.  I am a victim.  Or maybe it is just a basic story of struggle between good and evil.  Or maybe it’s the story of the religious man, trying to construct a system that will finally get God’s cooperation.

No matter which story I construct, my heart is searching for something bigger.  All my stories fail miserably to fulfil the longing for romance deep within me.