Well, I decided to blog about camp life once I realized the sheer futility of falling asleep with so many unspoken words in my head.

“Life is good.”

There are a lot of those pastel t-shirts floating around camp, almost always on someone with a cheery disposition. Just today, I saw one on a little camper from Cabin A, chocolate ice cream smeared cheek to cheek, skipping from one activity to the next. The infectious, toothless grin confirmed she hadn't a care in her whole, eight-year-old world.

She has no grasp on the amount of tragedy and pain in this world: the orphans suffering in El Salvador, the men and women fighting for her American freedom, the lonely woman at the local gas station. She doesn't understand the crucification or sacrifice. She's content with her double scoop in a waffle cone.

I find myself feigning the same innocence.

I'm satisfied playing make believe in my imaginary world. The people in it are merely puppets for my own selfishness, expected to react to my many mood swings and unjustified commands.

It's like believing in Santa Clause, being told he doesn't exist, and stubbornly refusing to believe it, because it just doesn't suit your second grade fantasy. Suffering may exist in the world, but it doesn't fit into my egocentric universe. Instead of mimicking Peter, I hear myself saying, “Lord, send them.” Send them to the unpopular, the unattractive, the self-righteous, the poor, the hurting, the greedy, the cheaters, the liars. Let me stay, surrounded by the lovely people in my world, under the alibi of “Christian fellowship.”

Sometimes I think if I truly understood the majesty of Jesus or the horror of his crucification, no amount of Christian fellowship would satisfy or subdue my need to love.

I run to those who contribute to my self-satisfying world: those who make much of me, those who affirm, provide, protect, love, cherish and adore me. I simultaneously ignore those who hurt, ignore, insult, or make little of me.

Life is wonderful from my tiny world.