Why The Bad Guys Get a Happy Ending

“I want to be a woman who overcomes obstacles by tackling them in faith, instead of tiptoeing around them in fear” Renee Swope

Fear. That simple four letter word can be crippling. But sadly, I believe that fear is a word that is almost inherent in our lives and all too present in the everyday. We are told almost daily to be careful, not to take risks, to do what is comfortable, and to abide by the socially constructed rules of living a safe and mediocre life in order to not put ourselves in harm's way.

Yes, I get it. You’re reading this and you’re all like “but wait, I am fearless. I have skydived and held a snake and done crazy adventurous stuff”. I hear you, I see you. Believe it or not, I am there with you as well. I truly think that fear comes in copious different forms, meanings, and shapes for many different people. When I engage in conversations about fear, the most common things I hear are the fears of amphibians, heights, public speaking, dying, etc. While all those things are scary in their own right, I have a difficult time relating, and you might as well. But hey, just hear me out for 3 minutes while I unpack the concept of what it means to be fearful in faith and how my heart is being turned upside down because of it.

What if i told you that I am afraid of being humbled? Fearful of being told that I am wrong? Worried and scared that I am not being as christ-like as I hope to be on a daily basis? Fearful that i’m super duper hypocritical, and instead of point people to christ’s redeeming love, I point them to places of anger? Well here I am, screaming it from the rooftops that yes, I am fearful of stepping out in faith and conviction because 90% of the time, it means that I am wrong. And being wrong? Ouch. That is a painful punch that I avoid like the plague.

I have written the line “why do the bad guys get the happy endings” in my journal for the past five years. Every time my heart is broken, I open up that tattered leather-bound book and begin to scribble those nine measly words with an angst that would make anyone frightful. I have written that line more times I can count, and everytime I see it on paper or on a screen, it provides me a bizarre sense of comfort that has instilled both a feeling of superiority yet hopelessness in me. Superiority in the way that while they are “bad”, I must be good. (ha, sure!) Hopelessness because by saying they get the happy ending, I am by default insinuating that I don’t. Which is hilariously lame because by speaking that, I am almost setting up my own fate. And with that, I have spun into a self-pitied hole that I was eager to get out for so many years. Sometimes, though, sinking in that hole has been the only thing I have desired to do. Yes, sitting in the sadness can be healing and beneficial in numerous ways or you can tip-toe around the hurt as much as you like in order to keep your heart seemingly in tact. But for me, both options never seemed to lead me to a place of humility and growth- but rather profound bitterness.

“Why do the bad guys get the happy endings?” I ask again, and again. Why do the people that anger me get to live a life of glory and happiness? Why is it so seemingly easy for them? Don’t they feel any remorse? Jeez. WHY ME? I don’t deserve this non sense. They were wrong, God, I wasn’t. “That’s just not fair”, I tell myself. I have spent a copious amount of time laying on my hot leather couch in the mid afternoon sunlight, while looking at the blank white ceiling and finally, after years of speaking that line, I ask God candidly “why do the bad guys get the happy endings”.

And this is what good ‘ol God and I figure out: I am a bad guy too. While I so badly want to believe that we are all inherently “good”, I am reminded of how although we are made in Christ’s perfect image, we have all fallen short of the glory of God. We are all sinners, and OUCH, that sucks to hear. At least for me, it is that moment of coming to terms with the thought that I have been believing the lie that I am good- too good, holy, perfect, to ever think I would be be as bad as the people who have left me with a broken heart.

It's like I was apprehensive to ask God that question because I was nervous my frustration, confusion, and pain would be disregarded. As if that chunk of life that I spent sulking in sadness didn't matter and wasn't worthy of a valid story. But the powerful thing about that is that God acknowledges those moments, too. In fact, he was there all along. Yet, He is using that valid story to spin a new story of redemption and reconciliation in my life. And I may have not known that 3 years ago, but I know that now- and I am holding it close as I continue to proceed into this life of unknown and uncertainty.

But, I ask that question again, but with me in place of the “bad guy”. “God, why do I get the happy ending?” I am suddenly reminded of the promise of heaven. That although I fail and fall short every. single. day. I can hold tight to the hope of eternity in a place that has no frustration, confusion, or pain. The sorrows of this world are far too miniscule to compare to the riches of heaven and the promise of a new life in christ

I realize how potentially effortless it is to focus on another’s sin rather than your own. It has always been the route that has been easiest for me, but truthfully, tackling my own sin in faith has dramatically allowed me to make way for a fearlessness that I didn’t know existed. To lean into the hard things that hurt and begin to see that I too, suck. I suck a lot. Becoming broken down to realize you were wrong a long long time ago.

As author and speaker Brene Brown so eloquently writes:

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” “When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.”