- The Christian is the True Realist

SOME SHALLOW THINKERS DISMISS THE CHRISTIAN as an unrealistic person who lives in a make-believe world. “Religion,” they say, “is a flight from reality. To embrace it is to take refuge in dreams.”
By constantly arguing this way, they have managed to disturb a great many people and to create in many minds a gnawing doubt concerning the soundness of the Christian position. But there is nothing to be disturbed about—a better acquaintance with the facts will dispel all doubts and convince believers that their expectations are valid and their faith is well grounded.
If realism is the recognition of things as they really are, Christians are of all people the most realistic. They of all intelligent thinkers are the most concerned with reality. They insist that their beliefs correspond with facts. They pare things down to their stark essentials and squeeze out of their minds everything that inflates their thinking. They demand to know the whole truth about God, sin, life, death, moral accountability and the world to come. They want to know the worst about themselves in order that they may do something about it. Something in them refuses to be cheated, however pleasant the self-deception might be to their self-esteem. They take into account the undeniable fact that they have sinned. They recognize the shortness of time and the certainty of death. These they do not try to avoid nor alter to their own liking. This are facts and they face them full on. They are realists!
We of the Christian faith need not go on the defensive. The burden of proof lies with the opponent. The charge of unrealism is one which can be brought against the unbeliever with unanswerable logic.
The man or woman of the world is the dreamer, not the Christian. Sinner can never be quite themselves. They must pretend all their lives. They must act as if they were never going to die, and yet they know too well that they will. They must act as if they have never sinned, when deep in their hearts, they know very well that they have. They must act unconcerned about God and judgment and the future life, and all the time their hearts are deeply disturbed about their precarious condition. They must keep up a front of nonchalance while shrinking from facts and wincing under the lash of conscience. The news of a friend’s sudden death leaves them shaken with the suggestion that they may be next, but they dare not show this--they must cover their terror as best they can and continue to act their part. All their adult lives, they must dodge and hide and conceal. When they finally drop the act, they either lose their mind, turn to Christ or try suicide.
Say, poor worldling, can it be
That my heart should envy thee?