The Only Way Out of This Mess
by Donavon L Riley

The world has spent far too long staring at its own reflection, like Narcissus by the pool, hoping to fix its fractured image with cheap glue—new leaders, new promises, new structures. It’s the same tired dream playing out over and over, each solution like a broken clock that never strikes the hour. We live on the edge of hope, waiting for a dawn that never comes. And all the while, we ignore the deeper corruption gnawing away at the soul. It’s easier, after all, to focus on the surface, on the clamor outside—the noise of politics, the din of endless schemes, the nightmare we’ve spun for ourselves. A new president, a fresh policy, a brighter economy—each is merely a bandage slapped over a wound that festers beneath. We convince ourselves that this will be the fix, that the next wave will break the spell. But it never does. We’re in a trance, seduced by our own desires, by the siren call of control, always reaching for something just out of grasp. And yet, beneath the noise, there is a deeper cry—our hearts calling out in the darkness, barely heard. But who will listen?

It’s easy to believe we can fix it ourselves. That with just a little more effort, a sharper plan, the right person in power, we’ll set things right. But all that’s just a smokescreen for the real issue. The world’s deepest wounds don’t heal with policy changes or economic restructuring. We keep chasing external solutions, but the sickness runs deeper, gnawing at the core of what we are. We’ve tried every worldly fix imaginable, haven’t we? More wealth, more technology, more knowledge. But none of it reaches the heart. Beneath all these shiny distractions, the soul is crying out. And until we face that, until we deal with the heart’s sickness, no amount of superficial solutions will save us. We need something more than clever fixes. We need the Knower of Hearts, the Caller of Souls—the one who cuts through the fog of this self-made hypnosis and calls us to wakefulness. Because if we’re honest, we can’t wake ourselves. No one in a dream can shake themselves awake.

Christ, that voice from beyond the walls of our world, doesn’t come with more slogans, more empty promises. He comes with something entirely different—something the world can’t manufacture or understand. He comes with the Cross. With a death that strips away the pretense and leaves us face to face with reality. St. Paul tells the Romans, “While we were still weak, Christ died for the ungodly.” It wasn’t for those who had everything figured out, who could manage their own rescue. He came for the lost, for the blind, for those wandering through this world half-asleep, half-dead. In the middle of our dreamlike stumbling, Christ stepped in—not with force, not with political power, but with sacrifice, with blood that cuts through the illusion. He didn’t wait for us to wake up on our own or clean ourselves up first. He walked right into our nightmare and tore it apart with the only thing strong enough to break the spell—His own life given for ours.

And that’s the only way out of this mess. We’ve tried everything else, haven’t we? We’ve run down every other road and found only dead ends. But without Christ, without His death and resurrection, we’re still trapped, wandering from one empty solution to the next, chasing phantoms that promise fulfillment but deliver only more emptiness. Only Christ breaks the spell, lifting the veil, waking us from the trance of death. Without Him, we’re just circling the same tired illusions, always thinking the next fix will be the one. But with Him, the dream falls apart, and we finally wake. We wake to a life that’s real, a life that’s full, a life where the heart beats in time with eternity. Christ doesn’t just offer an escape—He offers Resurrection. And in Him, we rise. Fully. Finally. Alive.