Good and Scary

What's so hard about accepting reality? What's so difficult about getting up in the morning, thanking God for being God, and taking my place as a created being? Why is contentment so elusive? You'd think nothing could be easier, especially if you believe in a good God. I know, I know. . .there is the problem of evil. . .but as a spoiled, affluent, insulated and distracted American, I don't see that kind of evil up close too much (yet). Which may be the problem, as morbid as that sounds. Perhaps all this insulation, although useful in deadening the discomfort of life, inevitably deadens life, period. It's life on prozac. . .no big ups, no big downs. No legs blown off from stepping on land mines, just the aggravating irritation of walking around with sand in your shoes. It's the price I pay for opting for the "safe" god who has all the warmth of an insurance policy, instead of entrusting my life to the good, but scary God who exists. You know. . .Aslan.