I'll give you a brief overview. Big Fish is basically about a father-son relationship that is very strained. The father, Edward Bloom, has told his son these amazing stories about his young life; stories that seem impossible, and yet they're fascinating to hear. Giants, Siamese twins, growth spurts that confined Edward to his bed for three years. But the problem is, his son, Will, doesn't believe his father's tales. He knows they're not really true. And he spends his life despising his dad for always telling his stories; even at Will's wedding, when it was supposed to be about him and his new wife. So, when he finds out his father is dying, he confronts Edward and asks him to tell him the truth. His father says he has been telling him the truth this whole time. Will, however, doesn't really understand until the end of the movie (which I won't spoil for those of you who haven't seen it; go watch it!).
I was sitting there after the movie was over, and my youth interns asked us what we got out of the movie before they went on to share their own thoughts. And even though I saw their points, I couldn't help but notice a completely different lesson; a more personal one.
Will Bloom had trouble believing his father's stories because they sounded impossible. I mean, come on... giants? A witch with a glass eye that shows people how they die? I probably wouldn't have believed them either. Will just couldn't see the true point of the stories; he was too focused on wanting the facts. One thing he says is, "In telling the story of my father's life, it's impossible to separate fact from fiction, the man from the myth."
And I realized... that was me. I grew up hearing these incredible stories from the Bible and being told they were true. Like Will, I believed in them when I was young. But the reason I believed in them was because that's all they were to me. Stories.
I have friends that don't believe in God. Their reasoning is that none of it makes sense. Some divine being just magically created everything in six days? People coming back from the dead? They questioned me, and we would get in arguments. Science vs. Religion. Facts vs. Faith. But the worst part of it was, I found myself questioning myself. Is there really someone up there controlling our lives? All those stories from my childhood... they sounded so... impossible.
I saw myself in Will. He had trouble knowing who his father really was because he didn't understand his stories. I have trouble understanding my heavenly father because I don't always believe his stories. I looked for realistic facts to try and make them more relatable, more believable. When I realized this as I started getting older, I got scared. What if I lost my faith? What if everything I've ever been told just suddenly vanished, and I was left with nothing?
Okay, yes, this sounds depressing. Am I telling you that I don't believe in God anymore?
No.
In the movie, Will had people around him that helped him along his journey to understand his father. They never pushed him. They just gave him gentle prods in the right direction. His mother gave him clues as to his father's life. His wife advised him to give his father a chance. The doctor basically told him that, even though the stories weren't always true, they were sure a lot better than the real version.
And thankfully, I had that, too. I found people in my life that showed me that I don't have to apply logic to God. It's not going to work. I just have to hear the stories and learn from them. I have to share with other people what I learn.
At the end of the movie, Will finally understands why his father talked about his life the way he did. I love the last lines of the movie:
"A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal."
We should tell our Father's stories so many times that we start to become them. And so, even after we're gone, there is someone there to keep the legacy going.
For a while, I thought I was losing my faith. But, through the help of my spiritual and literal family, I was reminded of my purpose. I am a child of God. He passed on his stories, and now it's my turn. Our turn.
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"It occurred to me then that perhaps the reason for my growth was that I was intended for larger things. After all, a giant man can't have an ordinary-sized life."
