Donald Miller spent most of his last book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, encouraging readers to tell good stories with their lives, to be heroes of a sort. Early on in Scary Close you get a sense of something a little different going on. You still get the language of story (and it is good), but you also get this:

The strongest character in a story isn’t the hero, it’s the guide. Yoda. Haymitch. It’s the guide who gets the hero back on track. The guide gives the hero a plan and enough confidence to enter the fight. The guide has walked the path of the hero and has the advice and wisdom to get the hero through their troubles so they can beat the resistance . . . The more I studied story, the more I realized I needed a guide.

Miller mentions a number of “guides” throughout the book. Bob Goff appears as a bookend of sorts. Miller also spends a chapter on David Gentiles, who had been an important figure in Miller’s early life. A number of times, though, and in the context of the above quote, Miller talks about the OnSite program in Nashville, which “does nine months of counseling in a week.” And it was pretty effective for Miller.

Good guides aren’t hard to find. At least in flesh and blood. One of the great things about being a reader is getting into the minds of people from all walks of life, from multiple places and times. But books can be poor substitutes for real presence. Miller seems to have gotten that at OnSite in his regular relationships, too. One of Miller’s early admissions in the book is “I don’t trust people to accept who I am in the process.” I think most of us feel that way, and we are looking for guides who can direct us (and call us to repentance) without using or abusing us.

One of the most significant “guides” from my time in Hawaii died unexpectedly in December. I got the call halfway through Exodus: Gods and Kings, which was oddly fitting since one of the first Sunday school lessons my friend Larry taught that I wasn’t sure what to do with concerned Moses and the Exodus. As anyone who was at his memorial service could attest, Larry always made you feel like the most important person in the room. He seemed to work effortlessly to bring out the best in others. I regret not spending more time with Larry in the last couple of years (and that I never got to tell him about my adventures in New Zealand). But I am mindful of his example as a guide and am grateful for what time I did have to learn from him.

Good guides speak truth into your life. They model a kind of clarity. They call you to something better. And they can definitely be hard to find.

But “the guides” aren’t the only part of Miller’s story. There is also “the bride,” which I’ll get to tomorrow.