I’m sure most of us are well acquainted with the gap between the ideal and the real, the potential and the actual. “Gap” may not be the right word. I have a “gap” between my central incisor and canine tooth. Gaps are small. Most of us are standing on a precipice looking over a hopeless chasm and seeing all that we wish our lives were, all that we would love to become, and it is well out of reach on the other side.
We stand looking down into a deep, dark canyon, and the darkness staring back at us is our reality. We first glance down at our shortcomings, then up at our goals; down at our failures, then up at our dreams; down again into our unmet expectations, up again into the potential we know exists. All the while, our feet never move. What is it about humanity that leaves us in this place of knowing what we should be doing but stopping short?
I don’t really have an answer aside from this: I believe it speaks to our need for something outside of ourselves. There is a desire in me to experience a life that I’m not experiencing, to experience a world in which none of us live. I believe that desire is in all of us. Even those of us who have grown cold to that desire didn’t start off cold. That desire was slowly killed by the world we do know, by the realities we’ve met, and by the expectations that let us down. But every one of us looks at our life and knows there’s more, we look at the pain in our world and know it isn’t right, and we crave something better.
C.S. Lewis speaks to this in Mere Christianity.
The Christian says, “Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exist. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
I find myself in this place, staring at the chasm, more often than I’d like to admit. I have a lot of lofty ideas and a lot of big dreams, and I am all too sober of where I stand in relation to those ideas and dreams. But when I feel small, I trust that God is big, and that the desires that are in me are there on purpose. That doesn’t necessarily help the pain of the chasm go away, but it helps me press through the pain and reach for the goal. At the end of the day, I don’t know if I can close the gap between the ideal and the real. I definitely don’t think I can do it on my own. But I refuse to stand with my feet fixed in position and watch the world pass me by because I’m too afraid or confused or broken to reach out and take hold of the dreams God has put in me.
I won’t become a better father by thinking about becoming a better father. I’ll become a better father by getting on the floor and playing with my kids, by reading to them at night, by praying with them and asking them to help me while I pray for broken and hurting friends.
I won’t become a better husband by dreaming about a good marriage. I’ll become a better husband by wooing my wife, by taking her on dates, by staying home from guys night to help her get kids ready for bed and walk the dog, by showing her my love and appreciating hers.
I won’t get closer to any goal by staring at my shortcomings. My life won’t change by wallowing in the chasm. The chasm is real. I really don’t measure up. But my feet can still press forward, and I can close the gap little by little. God put the dream there, who am I to kill it?
The Endeavor 