Never Lose Faith in the End of the Story

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When asked how he survived eight years in the infamous Hanoi Hilton, Admiral Jim Stockdale said, “I never lost faith in the end of the story.” His freedom, his family, prevailing to be defined by the experience instead of destroyed. Through the haze of horrors, that’s where he always believed he was going. That’s why he lived to arrive.

I am a writer. Not according to my tax returns, but when some story or another has been forming in my head since elementary school, that counts for something. I enjoy the study and practice of compellingly putting words on paper.

Here’s what I’ve learned in my pursuits.

Readers put their faith in the end of a story every time they pick one up. Cracking that cover open, they’re trusting the author to take them on a journey worth their time. Not one about perfect characters living perfect lives. That’s boring and unreal. They want to be whisked onto a roller coaster of conflict and pelted with plot twists, to wonder with every page they turn how this can possibly end well, and have all their hopes that it will end well–that hope is why they keep reading–thoroughly satisfied come the last sentence.

The author’s job is to not betray them. To pay off every setup, explain every mystery, bring every why, how, what, and who into the light, leave the characters better than they found them, and the story resolved with sufficient gains to compensate for the losses suffered along the way.

All of this makes a book unputdownable. And everyone knows those are the best kind. As long as the turmoil stays between the covers. We don’t like it so much in reality.

But sometimes it is real. That’s where faith in the end of the story gets tough.

True Stories Have High Stakes

You can walk away from a book. Set the tumultuous plotline aside and go fix dinner. Know exactly when that tumultuous plot will be over. Precisely count the pages to the end and even read it first if you want. But real-life struggles go where you go, and their end is–out there somewhere. You hope. Where, how long it’ll take to get there, whether you ever will–that always seems to be for God to know and you to find out.

And if the end doesn’t turn out like you hoped it would? When an author betrays you with a stupid ending, all it means is you’ve wasted a few hours and will probably leave their works on the shelf in the future. Real-life disappointments cut much deeper. How many years did you hope for that freedom? That cure? That marriage, that baby? Only to learn God didn’t write it into the plot?

You can’t just decide not to read the story anymore. You’re living it. And faith in the ending now feels like a gamble you lost. A fantastic way to waste a life if you hope in the wrong direction.

I’ve wondered a thousand times if I’m an unfortunate soul wasting my life on false hopes. Things aren’t turning out like I imagined, disappointments have left scars. Many haven’t healed enough to be scars. They’re still gaping wounds.

But guess what it means if I feel all that? It means I’m still alive. And that means my story isn’t over.

Which means there’s still something to put my faith in.

Don’t confuse the end of the chapter with the end of the story.

Trust the Process

Authors don’t tie up every chapter in a neat bow. If they did, the story would lose all its momentum, and they’d probably lose a reader. Where’s the drive to read on if nothing’s left to be desired?

Leave everything hanging in messy, totally unexpected tangles, though, and we’ll forge ahead to see how it irons out. We haven’t lost faith in the end because we’re not there yet. In fact, the more the plot thickens, the stronger our hope becomes. As the optimists say, “Where there’s this much manure, there’s gotta be a pony!”

Real life is a little different. Messy chapter endings don’t bolster our faith. They shake it. It’s not as easy to trust the author of the universe with our story as it is to trust human writers with fictional characters. Maybe because that faith in God requires some faith in ourselves, faith that the chapter didn’t end in a tangle because we messed up.

That could be true. There’s something to be said for checking what you want against what God wants for you. If you’ve left him out of the equation and things go south–maybe this is a good time to take a hard look at yourself.

I’ve had to.

I’ve learned to put some things on the altar.

But I’ve also learned to trust when I’ve done the best I can. If my life isn’t panning out the way I hoped, it isn’t always my fault. It isn’t always because I’m trying to take over the steering wheel. It’s because I’ve left it totally in God’s hands.

If he’s driving–he has as much grasp on good story structure as the authors we put so much faith in. He’s taking this somewhere good.

But you still have to live through those messy tangles. How do you not lose hope in the end when now feels so hopeless?

Your faith has to be in touch with reality.

Faith in the End of the Story Meets Reality

It was the optimists who didn’t make it. That’s what Admiral Stockdale told Jim Collins, who recounts their interview in his book, Good to Great.

“They were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”

Been there! Done that! Over and over again. Christmas after Christmas. Birthday after birthday. “Surely something will have changed by this time next year.” And it never did. Thankfully, I was a deluded optimist in comfort, emotionally drained but housed, fed, clothed, and free. If I was as abused as those hopeful POWs, the constant disappointment might have done me in, too.

Putting deadlines on circumstances, or on the God you hope will change them, is a recipe for despair. Take it from someone who knows.

But it doesn’t mean you stop hoping they’ll change.

Take it from someone who knows.

“This is a very important lesson,” Stockdale said. “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end–which you can never afford to lose–with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

Jim Collins writes, “To this day, I carry a mental image of Stockdale admonishing the optimists: ‘We’re not getting out by Christmas; deal with it!’”

It’s a paradoxical mindset. Trying to understand and practice it feels like hugging a porcupine. But it’s true, and it’s powerful.

You might not get out of prison. You have to know that, and you have to accept it. Then you have to hope for freedom, anyway.

Faith in the Author of the End of Your Story

Ultimately, the ending we put our faith in is that God will bring us out on top. That could look like escaping a Vietnamese prison camp. Overcoming cancer. Reconciling a relationship. Getting married. Having children.

But is it possible to come out on top if none of that happens?

Admiral Stockdale would have been on top if he died in that prison. Though not the end he wanted, he’d have still lived a better life hoping than if he’d succumbed to despair.

C.S. Lewis said, “Christianity, if false, is of no importance, but if true, of infinite importance.”

So it is with the end of the story. If it doesn’t come together like you wanted–it seems extreme to say it’s of no importance, I admit, but believing is why you held on. It’s what built your character, burned your dross, humbled you, and strengthened you. If you come to the end, the true end where there is no more story to read, at least in this life, and your character, refinement, humility, and strength are all you have to show for the journey–that’s a lot to show.

But if the ending you hope for is in fact waiting for you and you give up before you get there?

That is a truly tragic loss.

However your story ends in fact, it’s worth holding onto in faith. The chapters may disappoint, but the ending won’t. Because like every good author, God will pay off every setup, explain every mystery, bring every why, how, what, and who into the light, leave the characters (that’s us) better than he found them, and the story resolved with sufficient gains to compensate for the losses suffered along the way.

That’s an ending worth putting your faith in.

Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

Thank you for reading. I hope something here spoke to the story you’re living. If it did, please share it and leave a comment.

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