Real or not real

Flashback: On a spring evening 5 years ago, I found myself slouching against the stained wall of a dingy college dorm room. I watched helplessly as a nearly inconsolable girl paced and turned multiple shades of wet, blotchy pink (harsh fluorescent lighting isn’t exactly flattering). It was unfortunately familiar scene in my short friendship with this new resident. I had pity for anyone new—in the almost-completely freshman hall, our floor was the odd one, stocked with anti-social transfers and misplaced athletes. It was hard to make friends before people either moved out or got kicked out. The room I shared with an older transfer, for instance, was hedged in by the pumpkin pie sharing Canadian and the scary gaming guy who liked to yell at night and fist bump the wall. On any account, this sobbing girl in front of me didn’t have a lot going for her when she decided to switch colleges mid-year and live on our floor. And she had even less going for her with a syndrome that made her feel, look, and act differently than most people.

It’s not that people weren’t generally kind. People on our floor ate meals with her at times. No one would make fun of her odd looks or behaviors to her face. But at the end of the day, she didn’t fit in like she wanted to. She was merely tolerated, and that wasn’t good enough for her. We had talked several times in the past about how much God loved her. How he had sent Jesus to die for her. How she had value in his eyes. But in the face of her disappointment that night, she wanted to sob about how “no one cares about me” (never mind that I was giving her a hug), or how “no one loves me.” I gently reminded her that God loved her, to which she almost exploded: “But I just want people to love me.”

But I just want people to love me.

Those raw, bitter words sunk into my soul like they were penned in permanent Sharpie. I was speechless. I bit my lip and thought, “So I can remind you that the God of the universe loves you personally and you have the flippancy to respond with ‘Sorry, God, that’s really not good enough. I want people to love me.’” Wow, right?

No. The real reason I remember those words 5 years later is because I have found myself repeating their essence over and over.

I know your Word says you love me, God. But that guy doesn’t.

I know you said you didn’t make a mistake when you made me. But I wish I looked like her or that at least my jokes were funny sometimes.

I know you have a plan for the future. But I didn’t get into the grad school program I wanted to.

I know you said you’d never leave me. But flaky friends do, so in the end, it feels like you will too.

I know you said you’d take care of me and meet my needs. But what about when the car falls apart and the health insurance might not get renewed?

But...but...but.

Why? Why is there such a disconnect between a God that loves us and our everyday experiences?
Is it because we can't see Him?

We too easily start judging God's love by the circumstances we see in our lives rather than judging our circumstances by His love.When things are going well by our standards, and the "lake of life" is glassy and sunshine-y, it's easy to say "God is good! He loves us!"  But what about when the stuff out of your control (which is actually, like, everything) whips that "lake" into a tsunami you can't row yourself out of? When you try for a while, and then the oars float away and the wind blows harder?
You have a choice. Yes, a choice. You are not merely the victim of circumstances. You choose what you believe as truth, which defines you and dictates your actions. Either choose to mentally grab the lifeline of what God says is true and "anchor your soul" (Heb. 6:19), or continue to try to figure it out on your own, pushing away God's outstretched hand. James puts it this way: "The one who doubts [God] is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind...a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways" (1:6,8).

A few months ago I went to see the fourth installment of The Hunger Games in theaters. Whether or not it was a good film is not why I'm writing. What fascinated me was a phrase used by one of the main characters, Peeta, throughout. While in captivity on the bad side, he was brainwashed to view the good side, particularly the protagonist Katniss, as evil. Now, rescued (and watched carefully) by the good side, he is slowly coming to grips with what happened to him and seeking to find the truth to believe in the war they're in. What side is he supposed to be on? Are his reactions to events programmed, or based on reality? In his search to rediscover his identity, Peeta would test statements about himself or others, followed by "Real or not real?"

It struck me that I should probably be approaching life that way. In every situation, I should be asking God, "Real or not real?"

When I'm feeling guilty about self-destructive habits I can't seem to break, God is shaking his head at me in disgust. God would respond: "Not real." (Rom. 8:1, Eph. 2:8-9)

When I lose trusted friends, Jesus Christ will never leave me. "Real." (Heb. 13:5)

When my friend goes over to visit her boyfriend on Valentine's Day and finds he has another girl at his house, she just wasn't good enough. "Not real." (Rom. 8:31-39)

In that dorm room 5 years ago, when confronted with the truth that God loved her despite crushing circumstances, my friend chose to believe that her feelings and what she could see was more real than the truth that could free her.

The film ends with Peeta finally asking Katniss, "You love me. Real or not real?" to which she answers, "Real." Happy ending. Hooray.

You know what's amazing? We can have a happy ending too. If any of us posed Peeta's final question to God, his answer would undoubtedly be "Real." Over and over. Because His love is never going to be based on our worthiness, but his character. How do I know that? Because it's stated in his Word over and over. He proved it by the ultimate sacrifice, severing his relationship with his own son, Jesus, so that you (yes, you) could be reconciled to him (Rom. 5:8, Col. 1:20, John 3:16). When you're having a bad day, stop and think about that. That's real.