Christ Alone Can Satisfy. Apparently.
Um... So I started this blog almost two years ago, and still haven't made an actual post. Oops. Well, here goes.
Growing up, people always told me that those without Christ have no purpose, that their hearts have big, empty holes which they vainly try to fill with worldly distractions. Anyone who didn't have Jesus as their personal saviour was harbouring some secret yearning that only God could satisfy.
That atheist? He drinks beer because he knows his life is meaningless.
That muslim? She busies herself with schoolwork because she can't find happiness.
That millionaire? He tries to satisfy himself with fancy cars but still feels empty inside.
But as I've grown older and experienced more of life, I don't know if I can believe this philosophy. I don't know that Christianity is some sort of miracle cure for every human ailment or some sort of bleach that will wash away every insecurity. I also don't know that all non-Christians are unhappy.
I've done the whole dance. Born into an Evangelical family and attended church since before I was born. Gone to Sunday school every week, watched every flannelgram story, memorized countless verses. Baptized at twelve. I'm now part of a campus Christian organization, volunteer in my church's Sunday school, and still check off all of the Christian boxes.
But I'm still not feeling this peace, this joy, that Christians are supposed to have. We're supposed to be so peaceful and jolly that non-christians wonder why we're so different. But that's not me, and it never has been.
Thirteen-year-old me used to sit in my room and study till I couldn't hold my head up any longer, because I was afraid I would never get anywhere in life if I didn't. Fifteen-year-old me used to write out these long checklists of what I needed to have accomplished by certain ages in order to be a successful person, and cry under my bedsheets because I knew I couldn't complete them. Seventeen-year-old me used to wonder how long I could survive before I would end up driving my car off a cliff.
And now I'm eighteen. I'm in my first year of university, studying what is supposed to be my passion. And while I have made great strides in becoming a more balanced and secure person, I still have this deep internal sadness that threatens to consume me whenever I get bored.
I know what the Bible says. I've been told that Christ alone can satisfy. But I have never experienced that in my life.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I don't spend enough time in prayer or reading the Bible. But would doing these things really mend my wounds, or just distract me from them?
Does Jesus really heal, or do all these Christian activities merely serve as further distractions from our brokenness? And are we really broken, or are we just told so?
I don't know. I wish I knew. But I have to trust that I will know eventually.
-Hannah
Growing up, people always told me that those without Christ have no purpose, that their hearts have big, empty holes which they vainly try to fill with worldly distractions. Anyone who didn't have Jesus as their personal saviour was harbouring some secret yearning that only God could satisfy.
That atheist? He drinks beer because he knows his life is meaningless.
That muslim? She busies herself with schoolwork because she can't find happiness.
That millionaire? He tries to satisfy himself with fancy cars but still feels empty inside.
But as I've grown older and experienced more of life, I don't know if I can believe this philosophy. I don't know that Christianity is some sort of miracle cure for every human ailment or some sort of bleach that will wash away every insecurity. I also don't know that all non-Christians are unhappy.
I've done the whole dance. Born into an Evangelical family and attended church since before I was born. Gone to Sunday school every week, watched every flannelgram story, memorized countless verses. Baptized at twelve. I'm now part of a campus Christian organization, volunteer in my church's Sunday school, and still check off all of the Christian boxes.
But I'm still not feeling this peace, this joy, that Christians are supposed to have. We're supposed to be so peaceful and jolly that non-christians wonder why we're so different. But that's not me, and it never has been.
Thirteen-year-old me used to sit in my room and study till I couldn't hold my head up any longer, because I was afraid I would never get anywhere in life if I didn't. Fifteen-year-old me used to write out these long checklists of what I needed to have accomplished by certain ages in order to be a successful person, and cry under my bedsheets because I knew I couldn't complete them. Seventeen-year-old me used to wonder how long I could survive before I would end up driving my car off a cliff.
And now I'm eighteen. I'm in my first year of university, studying what is supposed to be my passion. And while I have made great strides in becoming a more balanced and secure person, I still have this deep internal sadness that threatens to consume me whenever I get bored.
I know what the Bible says. I've been told that Christ alone can satisfy. But I have never experienced that in my life.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I don't spend enough time in prayer or reading the Bible. But would doing these things really mend my wounds, or just distract me from them?
Does Jesus really heal, or do all these Christian activities merely serve as further distractions from our brokenness? And are we really broken, or are we just told so?
I don't know. I wish I knew. But I have to trust that I will know eventually.
-Hannah
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