Movies capture our imaginations. Don't they? There are films that have stuck with me for years - particularly poignant scenes, well-constructed plot progressions, compelling heroes and foes. The best ones have a succinct purpose for each an every scene and plot point. Nothing is left untied, and no matter how difficult or horrible an event, there is always a purpose for it.

I want my life to be like one of those movies. I can picture it in my mind sometimes - starting from the past, where I've been. The present is usually the middle part of the script, when the protagonist (that's always me) runs into some problems. Some of those problems are new. Others have been there since the beginning. Some are from the actions of various antagonists. Others are troubles of my own making.

But inevitably, the protagonist (again, me) overcomes those obstacles in order to reach a clear and glorious future. Everything ties up. All of the difficult things, all of the hardship, all of the trauma - all of it has a distinct purpose. All the negatives pay off somehow to become net positives.

Some people's lives do seem to boil down to that. I mean, watch just about any biopic, and you'll see a succinct narration of a life's story. And we can want that for ourselves. If we have pieces of our past that are difficult to fit into a story or narrative of our lives, we can tend to go into "movie mode" to try to follow the plot and get a sense of meaning for them.

That is, we want to be the protagonist of our own story. The main character. The good one. And whatever that event was, or that season of life, we want it to be there for a clear reason. That scene has to help our protagonist get through a future obstacle. It has to be part of developing that one character trait, or that one weird trick, or finding the MacGuffin that makes everything right in the end.

We have all of these scenes from life so far - some clear, some confused and cloudy - and we're trying to piece them all together in a coherent script for our film. Naturally, the question is, what's next? Where is all of this going?

We'd like to put all these events on a graph and be able to draw a line through the points to see where it's headed. What's my trajectory in life? Given the things I've been through and what I'm doing now, where can I expect to be in five years? How about in ten?

There can be value in spending some time sitting with these questions. But when we consistently approach life that way, remembering the past can bring psychological pressure, especially when it comes to traumatic or confusing memories. Finding a purpose is paramount to us, but we're not sure where on the graph to put them. And that can really throw off the angle our arrow takes.

Sometimes, though, I've found that even if we come to an understanding of purpose in that past event, we can also blame ourselves for missing it for so long. Usually that comes out as regret. Sometimes, it can involve flashbacks, where we're kicking ourselves for not getting it right that time. For why we treated someone that way. For how we spent that money. For the opportunities lost. For not standing up for ourselves.

In trauma, that can come out as blaming yourself for the event. A therapist walking through the memory with you can and should speak against that tendency.

We are unfair to ourselves when we take our present finite mindset and expand it like an umbrella over the entirety of our lives. And that's what we do, really, when we step into "movie mode" and try to look at life as a single plot stretching from beginning to end. As if we had the whole script in front of us already.

Maybe it's just me, but... My most negative thoughts and criticisms toward myself come up when I've become stuck trying to look at my whole life at once. The inner critic voices such condemnations as the movie plays in my mind again, and again. I've had to become aware of when that's happening, in order to step outside of that pattern.

At any given time in life, we know what we know. We're responsible for what we know. And sure, even with what we know now, we make mistakes and bad choices. We still pick and choose the times we want to treat others the way we ought. We still also have a measure of weakness that makes us tend toward unhelpful patterns.

So where does that leave us? For a competing word picture, I give you the artistic tradition of still life. In still life painting, the artist selects a simple subject, like a basket of fruit, and paints it in still form. There is no implied motion on the canvas, no action to follow. The moment is there, frozen in time, welcoming any and all observance. But now, it's not a whole life - it's a single moment.

The measure of life and maturity is quite simply where we are right now. In other words, what are our patterns and reactions in this moment? We need to look at what's in front of us and how we are responding to it in the present. And that is enough, isn't it? Each moment deserves focus. In the present is where we find the Lord: he is always in the now.

We can look back at those past events and try to think about how we would have handled it differently. But that turns toward our desire to edit the story and leave some parts of it on the cutting floor. We know more now. We've probably changed quite a bit from the person that was there at that time. The past is part of our story - part of the arc that leads to who we are today. All of it had an effect on what we are in the now. It's not necessarily a direct representation of the person we are.

And the future? We can make some plans, for sure, but hold them lightly. We have hopes, and we want to see them realized. But we can't be too certain where that arrow is pointing. And we're not directing this picture - we have some artistic choice in our role, but we do not know what a day will bring forth.

I have found that with life in the fog, it's best to keep your eyes on what's in front of you. Trust the Lord to guide your steps, and do your best to be faithful with what he sets in your path. We won't always know a purpose for the hardship we experience. And that's hard - sometimes that makes the fog a thicker soup.

But time spent trying to depend on God is never wasted.

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• Photo by Garreth Paul on Unsplash