Soul-Sucking Cynicism

“It’s easier to be a cynic.”

A guy said that a few weeks ago after I talked about hope. In his experience, hope opened the door to disappointment and heartache. Easier, he figured, to avoid the pain and resign to the inevitable.

I listened. I’m sure I tried to offer some wise-sounding words of encouragement. Truthfully, though, my friend is right.

Cynicism is easy. Hope is hard.

The cynic assumes defeat and surrenders in advance. No risk, no gamble, no point. Default language includes can’t and impossible, which in the cynic’s world become self-fulfilling prophesies.

I know well this world. I know because, despite all my words about hope, I tend to default to cynical thoughts.

We cynics are, ultimately, afraid. Afraid of trying and failing, of being disappointed, of believing in unfulfilled promises. Less hazardous to try nothing, wager nothing, believe in nothing. My friend is right.

Easier–and a whole lot safer–to be a cynic.

Last week I described my struggle with comparing my cycling speed to my able-bodied friends. My inner cynic says Why bother trying? You’ll always be too slow.

It’s a short step to Handcycling is frustrating and disappointing. Once-treasured solitude becomes isolation and loneliness. Might as well skip the exasperation and stay home.

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I said earlier that “cynic” is my default position. But my thoughts can’t always be trusted. Just because I think it, doesn’t make it true.

I can choose hope.

I need to emphasize: for most of us (certainly for me), hope is hard. We don’t default to a confident expectation about the future. It’s not easy to lean on faith in God’s promises.

So…why bother? Why not take the easy path? Why choose hope when, as my friend said, it opens the door to potential disappointment and heartache?

I choose hope because it also opens the door to creativity. Hope allows me to dream God-sized dreams, to believe I’m part of a story bigger than myself. Hope lets me think long-term, to confidently anticipate a future that transcends my ability to understand it.

Hope counterbalances my cynical comparison with the crazy notion that my efforts might actually make a difference. It’ll never change becomes there’s no limit to what can happen when I trust God for the outcome.

Hope. Changes. What’s. Possible.

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