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It struck me recently that many superhero stories feature a strange sort of grace. Here’s how it works in the Spiderman series: Peter Parker is a pretty unremarkable guy until an apparently random accident leaves him with extraordinary powers. He’s done nothing to earn or deserve them. He’s not particularly courageous or virtuous. In fact, he doesn’t start out as a particularly heroic character at all.

So, what is it that makes him a hero? As the story unfolds it seems to work in the opposite way to our expectations: rather than virtue being rewarded, it is the new powers that lead him to heroism. Famously, the recurring theme in the Spiderman stories is that ‘with great power comes great reponsibility’. In coming to terms with his powers, the changes in Parker are more than just the ability to climb walls. Maybe it is the same with all acts of grace.

As Mumford and Sons sang recently, “… that’s exactly how this grace thing works/It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart/But the welcome I receive with the restart.”

Have you ever imagined how the story of Joseph might play out as reality TV?

Welcome back to Pyramids and Presidents. It’s day 3429 in Pharaoh’s jail and two of the housemates have had dreams. Joseph has revealed his talent for interpretation and now has break the bad news — one of them is for the chop. If you think the baker should get his old job back, text BAKER. On the other hand, if you think the butler is Joseph’s best bet for mentioning his case to Pharaoh, text BUTLER.

Umm, I suspect the viewing figures might drop after the first decade. We’re more into instant celebrity than long-term training. On the other hand, for those of us who will never achieve overnight success, it’s reassuring to know that God does things differently.

Have you noticed how everyone is going back to their roots these days? In the cinema we have watched as Superman Returns after searching out his birthplace and as Batman Begins. We’ve seen Hannibal Lector start out and James Bond on his first mission. And on TV people are tracing their ancestors to answer ‘Who do you think you are?’

So, why the sudden interest in our pasts? Perhaps we hope that by looking back we can make sense of our present; that we’ll find some hidden meaning.

Of course, this is fine if you are fictional. Some scriptwriter can conjure up an exciting story with hints of greatness. But what if we look back and find nothing: no moments that ironically point to the future, no secrets of coming significance. Worst of all, what if our past is just dull?

Perhaps digging in our past is the wrong approach. Perhaps instead we need to look outside ourselves. Perhaps what we need is a bigger story we can become part of.

In his book, 31 Songs, Nick Hornby starts one chapter with this sentence: “I try not to believe in God, of course, but sometimes things happen in music, in songs, that bring me up short, make me do a double take. … see and feel things I can’t normally see and feel.” Interestingly, theologian Tom Wright says something very similar: “When you hear a great piece of music, you realize your mind and imagination have been enlarged, and you can think thoughts that you couldn’t have thought other how.” For both, something can happen in music that opens us up to new possibilities, to the possibility of God.

No one is saying, of course, that music suddenly makes people believe, but sometimes it can create room to think about things differently. And maybe, in our culture, that is what people need most of all. Before they can face up to God himself, perhaps what they need is space to believe, space to believe that maybe He is there. And perhaps music is one way that they can be given that.

It’s not just music, of course; we can create space for people in many ways. So, maybe we need to consider how our music, our art, our building, our infrastructure, our lives can give people room; consider how we can help them to see things that they can’t normally see.

In my opinion, ‘Spellbound’ is the most exciting film about spelling ever. But, then, I’m not a big fan of ‘Countdown’, so take that as you will. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a documentary about the U.S. National Spelling Bee. It follows some of the contestants and their parents up to the high-tension denouement. (Note the use of a big word in the spirit of event.)

Anyway, there is one part that I find fascinating. One of the girls, who comes from a poor background, says this: I’ve overcome great odds to come this far, so I know I’m going to succeed, because that is what happens in the movies. Look away now if you don’t want to know the result, but she isn’t the eventual winner. The film-makers interview her again after she is eliminated. Her response is this: I’ve overcome great odds to come this far, so I still know I’m going to succeed, because that is what happens in the movies. Even after facing reality, the movies — the stories that she lives by — continue be her reference point.

I don’t think she is unique. Stories make up a big part of our view of the world. Maybe we are all have movies or books or songs that, without knowing it, guide our choices and our hopes. So, then the question I have to ask myself is: what are the stories that motivate me?