Post for David

John Mayer found out there was no such thing as the real world. All my life, I've been finding out that there is. And I hate it.

I was in a play in fifth grade. It was a Christmas play called The Bethlehem Project about two rival gangs, the city kids and the shepherds, and how their lives were changed when the Savior was born. It was a sweet play. My part was Jesse the Shepherd. I guess I was the idealist who boldly opposed the rest of my shepherd "gang" because I was friends with a city girl. One of my lines went like this: "Well, I don't like the real world. I like Lilly and Elizabeth. I think someone should come and change the real world..." Of course Christ came and changed that 'real world,' and in the end we were all united under His Love.

I don't like the real world, and I've never intended to live by its rules. But sometimes I feel so swamped by it that I can barely keep my head above water. It's as if all those carefully constructed dikes betray their integrity and let me get pummeled by the negative evil that's trying to kill me. All I feel is betrayed and helpless, having to ride out the flood before rebuilding.

Then I find myself wet and sopping, too exhausted to move forward in confidence. This is not who I wanted to be. I want to be up there and not down here. I want to be anywhere than here! Was this my fault? Am I this much of a failure that I could see it coming and not stop it? And I just want to scream at those dikes for not protecting me when they should have, and scream at myself for not being perfect, and scream at Jesus for bringing me to this place of failure. And I weep that I can't be like Job who, tormented beyond belief, held true in righteousness. And I fail miserably when the pressure drops in my head, or when I lose understanding. How pathetic is that?

I see my goals, and yet I still can't reach them. There is something missing in the circuit from desire to pursuit, and like my nightmares last night, large venomous insects seem to have infiltrated and have a hold on me. Trust has a whole new dimension to it. Now I have to trust that God saw a light at the end of this tunnel before He brought me into it. My one comfort is that He knew, and He still loves. He has hope for me that I don't have for myself.

When it comes down to it, I rely on my senses too much. His world is real. In comparison, this one isn't. I need to live victoriously in His.