As we take a step, or perhaps stumble back to observe life, we cannot help but witness that all is not well in the world. Any examination which overlooks the darkness of disease, crime, injustice, poverty, hunger, pain, death and decay is sorely deluded. Everything seems amiss. And something is.
In between clamoring for the latest objects of our affection, we humans timidly lift the shades up from over eyes and hate so much of what we see. All is not well as we peer into the rock face of cold cavern walls painted with history. A light is there – somewhere outside the stony confines – but it only reflects the giant shadows of tragedy all around us. Like a calculated curse, the shades of black and gray reflect off of the wall, dancing chaotically for our bemusement. And so we sit perplexed by this dark.
All of us, even those who claim to know it, seek the meaning of life. Moreover, we wish to define that meaning in our own terms, secretly self-soothing by publicly convincing someone of our own explanation of it all. Is this endeavor to make meaning out of everything the vain attempt of any given lunatic? And is our native desire to know and be known preparation for some grand disappointment? Is everything senseless apart from our largely unimpressive efforts to define and live out a vague, disputable morality?
We observe a particular universality on this earth riddled with questions and arguments for answers: It is the longing for something larger-than-life. We humans flock like migrating foul to our cinemas; we hungrily devour our novels; our cheers swell stadiums of thousands for greatness to be achieved; we devote our lives to watching and reading and forming an epic, a mere reflection of The Epic. Indeed, we are creatures who lust after impressive acts of grandeur and greatness. We thirst for significance in our families, friendships and employment. We murmur for a larger purpose and labor for a greater legacy. With squinted eyes, we search for methods to make an impact and brace ourselves in hope for a grandiose ending.
So is there a reason we seek this universal acclaim and appeal? How can such an omnipresent desire be the result of a game of odds? How can such steady stream of consciousness be the mere product of fine-tuned biological evolution? There has to be a motive for this impulse to search out a savior, to glorify a hero, to be an actor on the stage of an extraordinary theater of existence.
I am a realist, and yet a dreamer. I don't believe to be excludes being the other. I look at life as it is: dirty, messy, confused, wonderful. I look at all of these elements together and I buckle down, resisting the urge to wince away the pain, to flinch at the severity, to shrink from the truth or to cower from the tragedy. Life is what it is. And I am no snowflake. I am just a melted puddle taking up an inch of ground on a blue sphere that craves oneness. I don’t dream unique dreams, but I do envision the common one. The Epic.
The Epic compels me to see things clearly, and to dream. I am not ashamed to go dumpster-diving for dreams. I inexhaustibly chase for that which seems unattainable and inaccessible. The curious chase of a man with a Mona Lisa joy. An awareness of the world around me does not subdue my inward happiness, nor the deep longing to reflect evidences of grace to an unmerciful planet.
Although the earth's inhabitants collectively cry, "Peace! Peace!" there is none on this plane of existence. Nations and governments and races and communities are in perpetual, ongoing turmoil. Life seems insufferable at times, yet my shoulders must not give way. For I know that life is truly not upon them. We only struggle against this present darkness. Against the unseen we wage war, while pressing forward to better the visible in the ways in which we're led. All around us is the still-breathing echo of lost souls who have no savior, and my frequent immobility is discomforting.
In life, there is no stasis – no neutral. We are either toppling backwards or hurtling forward. Lungs expand with oxygen and hearts pump in worship to something or someone. Make no mistake; we are continuously glorifying __________. What or who do we fall upon our faces for? It is extremism at its finest, this idea of perpetual adoration. We esteem so completely that which we aspire for. And still our faces meet with the empty asphalt time and time again. From all appearances, we're fanatics for chronic pain and separation. And yet as believers and disciples of Jesus Christ, all of our affections are so rightly meant for our God.
Through the cracks of our own human nature and its attraction to damage, there comes an eternal equilibrium both radical and controlled. It is an offer inconceivably met with refusal countless billions of times. And yet the true Christian has received it with open heart. It is a bid to be hoisted up onto the stage of life by its very Host. The Host proceeds to offer us a morsel of the incredible story He authors.
The free, unmerited gift of salvation challenges us – not to conquer what we do not understand or what we do not agree with – but to bind faith to our hearts when remaining a foe seems far more appealing. It dares us to bow our heads in quiet, confident trust. Likewise, it commands we take up a position that will not be silenced. Rebirth demands our absolute forfeiture of the pursuit for popularity, power, prestige and prominence in return for the Prince of Peace.
Many Christians and non-believers alike would have us believe that beholding the world as drenched in sin and darkness is a destructive form of cynicism. But I think that what they call cynicism is really just the obvious shadows up there on the cave wall. The greater danger and the inevitable defeat lies with the individual believing their self to be the highest summit to discover.
The single-most liberating truth I have learned about myself is that it isn't all about myself. I am only a bit-piece player on a vast and brilliant stage gasping for truth. Everything else is a gift or an opportunity. To be sure, The Epic was never, ever about me. It was about its principal role: Jesus Christ. He came to give life to the lifeless, and He shall return again to set all things right. Amen.
