Good stories don’t resolve every tension. Neither should you.

Phone rings. I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Payton.”

“Hey, Chris.”

“You heard about my grandma passing last night?”

“I heard. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a pastor. I’m struggling to understand how God would let it all happen so suddenly.”

“Mmhmm.” I acknowledge.

It’s a Thursday afternoon. As a pastor, I have conversations like this nearly every week. It happens when people find themselves in the tension of Mark 9:24:

"I believe; help my unbelief."

I call this social antithesis—the collision of two opposing realities that both feel undeniably true.

In literature, the basic formula for antithesis is simple: X is Y, and not X is not Y.

It’s a device that captures tension and contrast, not just to be clever but because it mirrors the way we experience life.

• "He who does not trust enough will not be trusted." – Lao Tzu

• "Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching." – C.S. Lewis

• "If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything." – (attributed to Alexander Hamilton)

There’s something final and certain about good antithesis. It has a mic-drop quality.

And the Bible is full of them because Scripture doesn’t just tell us what to believe. It reveals the intensity of being human.

One of the best examples is in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance...

Take a moment and let that sit.

Some parts seem dully obvious. Others are harder to swallow. A time to kill? A time for war? A time to scatter stones?

But analyzing it too critically can strip the words of their power. The reliability of this passage isn’t in its logic—it’s in its resonance. It’s what we know to be true even if we don’t always want to admit it.

Charles Dickens knew this too.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity...

It’s essentially a reworking of Ecclesiastes, but the best writers understand the art of stealing.

Chris and I sat in silence for a few moments that day.

He sighed. “I don’t know what to do with this, man.”

“You don’t have to,” I told him. “Not yet.”

Because belief is full of contradictions. It’s faith and doubt. It’s I believe; help my unbelief.

And that’s the takeaway for us as copywriters, pastors, and storytellers:

Great writing doesn’t resolve every tension. The best stories, sermons, and copy don’t just present ideas. They reveal the truth of life.

It’s messy.

So as you write this week, resist the urge to tie everything up neatly. Use antithesis. Establish contrast. Let your readers feel its weight.

That’s when writing sinks in.

Write on 🤙

Payton

P.S. Did you notice the shift to a more story-focused format? As a student of storytelling, I believe the best lessons are learned through story. Let me know if you're enjoying the change!