"Inside of every cynical person is a disappointed idealist." -George Carlin
In yesterday's (very good) sermon about race and The Gospel, our pastor described what it looked like to get burnt out on social justice. These burn outs are people who have labored and labored to bring reconciliation and peace to the people around them and have seen NO fruit. Not only have they seen zero results from their anguish, they have, figuratively, "had their teeth kicked in". He described this group of people as "cynical". That concept resonated with me...HARD.
Do you know what happens when you take a tenderhearted idealist and toss her head first into the gritty reality that is our world? It hurts her...frustrates her...grieves her. Being the Nerdy-Nerderson that I am, I looked up the definition of cynicism and felt it wasn't QUITE the word I would use to describe the soul-sick, faithless, hopeless, pessimist that I have become. No, the best term I could find that encompasses the nothing-left-ness of my heart is...jaded.
Of course, I didn't really realize this truth until it was presented to me objectively. I would have said that, like everyone else, I am a realist...and reality is cruel. On some level, that has to be true. But for someone whose life purpose has been to be a consummate helper, I think that reality somehow just SEEMS meaner. When the standard is for everyone to get along...for all people to feel valued and valuable...failure FEELS magnified.
Do you know what happens when you take a tenderhearted idealist and toss her head first into the gritty reality that is our world? It hurts her...frustrates her...grieves her. Being the Nerdy-Nerderson that I am, I looked up the definition of cynicism and felt it wasn't QUITE the word I would use to describe the soul-sick, faithless, hopeless, pessimist that I have become. No, the best term I could find that encompasses the nothing-left-ness of my heart is...jaded.
Of course, I didn't really realize this truth until it was presented to me objectively. I would have said that, like everyone else, I am a realist...and reality is cruel. On some level, that has to be true. But for someone whose life purpose has been to be a consummate helper, I think that reality somehow just SEEMS meaner. When the standard is for everyone to get along...for all people to feel valued and valuable...failure FEELS magnified.
It's taken a while for me to get to this point of full scale jaded-ness. I've been knocked down a healthy handful of times. Until Foster Failure, I had at least attempted to limp along. After I burned out as an inner city teacher, I was still able to muster up the strength to keep my toe in the world of education as a substitute teacher. After I went on several short term foreign mission trips and saw that we were NOT helping, I was still able to move to the heart of my home city, believing that I could make a difference with my life. After our we disrupted our first and only foster placement...I.just.couldn't. Everything hurt and nothing made sense anymore.
After Foster Failure, I cut everyone off. I literally snapped back into the safe walls of my own home. I stopped seeing my friends. I loathed going out...especially if I had to meet new people...especially any new person who might NEED anything from me. For the last three years, I have barely done more than the emotional minimum to sustain my life. For whatever reason, that event took me from wounded idealist to full blown jaded...especially with regard to my faith.
I've been on shaky spiritual ground for three years. I mean, I've always been a little soft on being disciplined enough to read my Bible and carve out time to pray on a daily basis. But for the last three years I have been actively ANGRY with God...felt BETRAYED by God...and TERRIFIED to engage with Him because I am afraid He will CRUSH me again just to teach me another life lesson. I don't think I can handle it. So in an act of self preservation...I've cut Him off too.
When I became a Christian, it wasn't after long, labored studies of comparative religions. I didn't research all of the theological and historical minutiae of the faith. What happened was, the Spirit of God whispered to my heart and I responded. Something OUTSIDE of me, called me into relationship with God. Yes, I CHOSE it, but I feel like it was what is called "irresistible grace". I had the freedom to walk away but why would I WANT to. The voice that spoke everything into existence was
After Foster Failure, I cut everyone off. I literally snapped back into the safe walls of my own home. I stopped seeing my friends. I loathed going out...especially if I had to meet new people...especially any new person who might NEED anything from me. For the last three years, I have barely done more than the emotional minimum to sustain my life. For whatever reason, that event took me from wounded idealist to full blown jaded...especially with regard to my faith.
I've been on shaky spiritual ground for three years. I mean, I've always been a little soft on being disciplined enough to read my Bible and carve out time to pray on a daily basis. But for the last three years I have been actively ANGRY with God...felt BETRAYED by God...and TERRIFIED to engage with Him because I am afraid He will CRUSH me again just to teach me another life lesson. I don't think I can handle it. So in an act of self preservation...I've cut Him off too.
When I became a Christian, it wasn't after long, labored studies of comparative religions. I didn't research all of the theological and historical minutiae of the faith. What happened was, the Spirit of God whispered to my heart and I responded. Something OUTSIDE of me, called me into relationship with God. Yes, I CHOSE it, but I feel like it was what is called "irresistible grace". I had the freedom to walk away but why would I WANT to. The voice that spoke everything into existence was
calling out to me. My soul knew His voice, so I believed. And...I believe still. It has been anguish to believe something to be true...but be too wounded and afraid to live in that truth.
I don't desire to be bitter and cynical. It's not a "pleasure from pain" kind of situation. I hate it and it's obvious to anyone who knows me well that it isn't my natural inclination. At the same time, however, I'm not sure how to both long to love people and nurse the intense grief that comes from the rejection of that love. I don't know how to both surrender myself to a God that I am CERTAIN loves me and walk with Him on a path that I am CERTAIN will destroy my heart. Because I don't know what to do...I've chosen to do nothing. That...I think...is the essence of being jaded. Wanting to care and being petrified to do it.
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