I Lost My Green-Colored Glasses

In the Wizard of Oz, the inhabitants of the Emerald city wear green-colored glasses. This way, no matter what shade of brown or grey their city actually is, everything appears to be green and fresh. If the World Race was the Emerald City, I have misplaced the green-colored glasses that I was given. “These last 2 weeks in the Dominican have been a dream” I type as an Instagram caption. In many ways I wasn’t lying, but I confess I want telling the complete truth. Rain is pounding the tin roof of this tiny church, a church that 4 months ago I wouldn’t have called a church, because I believed churches were stoic walls of woodwork and stone, carvings and pews and stained-glass windows. Here, they look like bright blue walls and concrete floors and plastic chairs and toilets unaccompanied by by toilet paper. We were supposed to be teaching today, but the tropical storm descending on this island has prohibited most of the children from walking to school, so I sit and watch as another team teaches English greetings to the remaining pupils. I promise that this time I’m going to tell the truth about the race, unmarred by dishonest positivity. 

The truth is, the Race is hard. The truth is, that salvation is free, but living a life following Jesus is full of frustration and adversity. I thought I was really doing something for God when I stepped on the Gainesville campus in September. I was going to fulfill my purpose, open eyes that are blind, free captives from prison, and to release from dungeons those who sit in darkness. What no one told me was that to release people from darkness, you have to go there yourself. You have to sit in the stench of sin, allowing your heart to be broken by the brokenness of the world. 

This week during a house visit, we met a woman whose sister is enslaved by a gang in Haiti. She was kidnapped a year ago, and her family tried to pay the ransomers off, but lost all their money without receiving their daughter back. Kaitlyn, the woman said, my sister’s name is Kaitlyn. I’m worried about her. My team sat in silence, unsure of what to say. And what can you say when your heart is broken by a stranger’s story, when the edifice of positivity you were struggling to hold together all this time crumbles in the middle of a conversation? What can you say when your own life looks so different than what you expected it to be, when the world you thought was bright green turns out to be dark grey, stained black beyond redemption? 

I’m going to continue with the Wizard of Oz metaphor. The ruler of the Emerald City is the Wizard, who was supposed to be great and powerful, able to send Dorothy home, to give the Tin Man a heart, the Lion courage, and the Scarecrow a brain. But he was really a little old man with no physical strength or magical power, finally unveiled by a little black dog who got a little too curious. I can imagine the anger and repulsion of all who once believed in him, that the person they put their hope in turned out to be a fraud. What must it have felt like to finally lose those green-colored glasses and to look into the pathetic face of their ruler? Did they feel free from the illusion or just distraught at the price of the truth? Did they regret the knowledge they now possessed, craving the days when they lived in happy nativity? 

Well, my life isn’t like that. There is a difference between the Wizard of Oz and my God. Yes, the world I once looked at with innocent confidence has been de-romanticized beyond repair. But the King of my Heart is everything He has told us to be and more. He is good even when this life isn’t. He is trustworthy, even if your friends aren’t. He is sufficient, even when your own insufficiency chokes you. My God doesn’t lie, He does not change, and He will not forsake His chosen people. It’s very human to believe that our circumstances reflect the inconsistency of God’s character. It’s easy to question someone you can’t see, a reality that is too good to be true. But this reality is the truth, that God is good, that He is in control, and that He so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. This life on earth is transitory, the pain we feel is real but temporary. The other half of the truth, that does not fade when your glasses get knocked off, is that one day we will be basking in the radiance of our Creator. 

I’m glad I lost my glasses, I won’t be looking for them again. Without them I see the darkness of my world, but I can also see the authentic brightness of my God. Without them, I see the whole truth. And this is the truth: that all the pain we feel will go away, that all our tears will be wiped, and our sins are atoned for. The truth is, we are free. The truth is so much better than the lie.