The view from our cabin at Camp Orkila
Last week I went to fifth grade camp with my daughter at Camp Orkila on Orcas Island. It was a physically grueling week. I don’t know how many miles we hiked. All I know is I ended the week exhausted, sporting huge blisters and aching to my core. There were also high points. My daughter amazed me with how capable she is. We climbed to and completed a rope course 30 to 40 feet up in the trees. We sped down a 1000 foot zip line. Activities like these were at once exhilerating and nail-biting.
The view from the ropes course
One night, I was standing outside. Dusk painted the crescent moon with deep oranges and purples. It was stunning. But the breeze off the ocean was cold, a little painful even. I was struck by how real the world is. Then I wondered why. What gives the world its sense of reality?
It occured to me (courtesy the Spirit, I’m sure) that the realness is because not everything pleases me. Some things please and some don’t. The scenery that night was gorgeous but the air cold. A world entirely of my design, entirely subjective, is inherently unreal.
I could see how this reflects Christ–suffering and glory rolled into One (Rom. 1:20, 8:17). Jesus is reality, truth (John 14:6). He lends His reality to the world He made; a world composed of suffering and glory.
The world is real because it reflects God, not me. And that makes it worth living in, even if it doesn’t always gratify me…
…because it doesn’t always gratify me.