The Bible is replete with examples of the powerful, life-changing power of trusting in Yahweh. The apostle Paul was brought to nothing on the road to Damascus before radically giving his life to serve Christ and propagate the Gospel message. King David was an adulterer and murderer, yet he repented to the point where he was called, “A man after God’s own heart.” And of course, in our own lifetimes, who among us has not known those with incredible, awe-inspiring stories of redemption?

Yet, doggone it if some of us just don’t have those stories. Mr. “Clean Cut Since Birth, Never Done Drugs, Sexually Pure, Consistently Pursued Christ” — what’s his angle? What great work is there in his life? How is he supposed to spread the Gospel message without a story of revolutionary changes, crises, climaxes, compelling narrative developments, cinematic bait and switches, and denouments? How, pray tell, is God to use a man who faithfully obeys His commandments throughout his life?

Some have suggested that the bare grace of God to rescue a flagrantly rebel soul at an early age is story enough, often including some mishmash about the “astounding gifts” given to souls unlucky enough to live a blessed life. An equally suspect idea carries with it the thought that it is Christ, the object of our faith, who brings life, rather than our own clarity and intensity of faith. “Bah! Humbug!” says I. What we really need is what Father Ted’s Mrs. Doyle identified as a “good, miserable time” to keep us on the straight and narrow. Come now, what good is the unwavering Christ if you don’t have a cool story? I realize, though, that asking high performers, particularly Christian ones, to concoct these stories really can be a challenge, so we’ve taken it upon ourselves here at Bereans to identify some ways that you, as a high-performer, can have your own bottoming out story, all ministrations of love, goodness, and actual change into your life be anathema.

• Get a ‘C’ in any class — Odds are good that anything less than about a B+ (maybe a B if it’s an honors class) is an indicator that you have truly hit the trundling pits of despair, the only logical conclusion being the holy, righteous justice of God upon your unrepentant keister.
  
• Develop an affinity for fast food — Look, we all know what you’re thinking, “Thanks a lot God, wish I could have been addicted to crack.” Well you likely won’t be, but you can eat too many chicken nuggets. Throw in the inevitable need for Tums, and you can pawn it off as substance abuse. A bit of a stretch you say? Maybe, but remember you’re after the story, not grace.
  
• Existential angst — A classic, one you can use anytime you can’t quite peg something concrete (well, something cool enough at least) that you’ve been rescued from. Yes, five minutes of genuine toothache would slap reality right back into you, but find you a phenomenon as vague and socially useful as staring into the void. Oh, and never forget — you’re the only one who is going through that.
  
• Get flipped off in traffic — Basically the same thing as being martyred for the Gospel.
  
• Have no one text you for a day — Similar to being martyred for the Gospel but probably more appropriately like exile. You and the apostle John are in the same boat.
  
• Have a bad day — The important thing here is to make sure that you don’t let people in on the fact it was literally one bad day. Few things are impactful as a longing gaze into your coffee cup as you confess about your “rough past,” no matter the fact that it was one day. What we’re going for is a kind of ethereal regret, nevermind the fact that you have plenty of tangible things to confess in the present day.
  
• Literally have anything not go your way — At the end of the day, it ultimately doesn’t matter what you pick. You think you’re in the business of being a conduit for God’s grace, but you’re really in sales. Frame your past, no matter how blessed, as miserable. It doesn’t matter that you’re likely cheapening God’s actual, personalized, loving work in your life; now you have a story. And isn’t that what it’s really all about?