I’ve heard a few people tell me, “If I weren’t a Christian, I’d be a _____.” They fill in the blank with such things as naturalist, atheist, humanist, etc. Let’s get this straight, I’m not writing this to condemn anyone. What right do I have to do so? None. And for those who are not Christians, I don’t expect them to understand or agree with me. However, I’ve often found that such statements are made with an ever so slight sense of longing. Though I’m sure they’d deny it and it’s likely they are being honest, it seems as if they are really saying, “Sometimes I wish I weren’t a Christian so I could be a _____.” But when I’m in my right mind thinking about it, my own response is (or ought to be), “If I weren’t a Christian, I’d be dead.”

For me, there is no life outside of Christ. Without Christ, I’d quite possibly be physically deceased and would undoubtedly be spiritually and morally lifeless. And I don’t mean lifeless as in what happens after something has lived for a time, but as in having never once lived, a complete absence of even the faintest trace of life. Non-life.

Am I a better person for thinking this? Of course not. I am just as quick to give in to worldly thought and worldly living as the average Christ-follower, indeed, even more so. I’m outrageously susceptible to sin and am constantly underestimating its terrible power and influence in my own life. Nevertheless, when it comes to finding real appeal from adopting other worldviews, I simply cannot. I see no hope outside of Christ. I agree with Peter in John 6:68 when he replies to Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” There is nowhere else to turn, nothing else that makes sense to me, no one else who offers an honest, practical, powerful, and reasonable solution to the problems of the human condition. I find no joy, no comfort, no meaning save that which comes from the death and resurrection of Christ. Without it I am forever lost; a creature most pitiable, doomed to roam in futility until its day of ultimate nonexistence. But in Christ I have life; eternal, glorious, victorious, abundant life! May it ever be so.

What will it take for us to realize that every passing second is of importance, that every breath is a gift? Why am I so quick to lose sight of the magnitude of living, of just being here? So rarely do those gleaming moments of reverent understanding cross my mind, the ones that bring everything else into focused clarity beneath their glow. How seldom do we really appreciate the human experience, how little we truly value life, the one thing we possess.

Is it wrong to sometimes want so badly for things to be very different? So many of us, myself included, live better than any king ever did, with luxuries surpassing even the grandest imagination of those wealthy rulers from ages past. And yet we are so secluded, so feeble, so vain, so wasteful, so careless, so heartless, and so alone. I heard recently that worship is the only real solution to loneliness. I believe it.

These are dark times and I can see them getting darker. But alas, it is night, and it is always difficult to see anything clearly in the dark. Life becomes complicated and convoluted. The doubts start to overwhelm that inner joy. Still, the day is coming. As the sun faithfully rises once more, its beams streaming across my face, awaking me from slumber, I also rise, allowing air to again fill my lungs, knowing that I’ve been given yet another chance. And as I gaze out upon the world before me, I think, “you haven’t lost me yet.”