Cynicism Is Easy

 

 

This weekend I strolled through a local antique store. I wasn’t searching for anything specific, just taking a mental break. I turned the first corner, and this landscape painting caught my eye. It was quiet and weathered, full of sky and stillness. I admired it for a while and felt a deep pull to bring it home. 

 

The world feels heavy these days. Maybe the calmness this framed piece held was what moved me most? Headlines blur into heartache, and even my quiet corners seem touched by weariness. I find it tempting, sooo tempting, to meet this world with contempt and let my eyes blur with anger or to lose heart. 

 

Cynicism is easy. 

 

It lets us feel right without being kind. 

It lets us shout without listening.

The hardness of the world can stir such emotions of anger, gloom, and pessimism. And while these feelings deserve some space, they certainly don't deserve sovereignty. Once you've listened, then you've really gotta turn the record over and choose not to replay the same sorrows, tragedies, and traumas on loop. Otherwise, anguish becomes your anthem. 

And I just don't think we were made to echo the ache. We were made to answer it. Eventually, we must decide what kind of presence we will be in the world’s pain.

Gentleness in the face of division. Goodness in the thick of sorrow. Faithfulness when so much feels uncertain. Patience when others are short-tempered. Kindness when cruelty is trending. Self-control when the weight of it all seems too much. Peace when harshness is applauded. Love when others dispense hatred. Joy to believe in a better tomorrow. For me, these are more than Christian virtues. They’re evidence of Christian faith. Galatians 5:22–23

As I reflected on all this, a few decisions I needed to make began to form. If you find yourself needing them too, they’re yours. These decisions were:

• You’re not going to stay sad or hopeless. (You already know what helps...start there.)
• You’re not going to surround yourself with people addicted to outrage and arguing.
• You’re not going to ignore your health. (Get some water, sunlight, fresh air, & move!)
• You’re not going to let bitterness be your default setting.
• You’re not going to give up on people.

Instead, you are going to…

1. Focus on the people right in front of you. (Family, friends, the ones who share your table, your texts, your Tuesdays.)

2. Let rest reshape your perspective. (Give your mind and spirit a break from the media hamster-wheel.)

3. Share your truth without losing your empathy (Cynicism speaks in absolutes. Wisdom speaks to heal, not harm.) 

4. Hold space for complexity. (The reason for any of the world's issues does not fit neatly on heads or tails of a coin. Cynicism demands a villain but the wise know that blaming one “thing” isn't honest.)
   
   
5. Choose to cultivate, not critique. (There is enough tearing down - what or who will you build up?) 

I may have looked a little odd taking a photo of that painting. If it’s still there next time I visit, I plan to bring it home. It feels like a kind of invitation to meet the world differently. The quiet, the misty rain, and the calm green plains reminded me that hopefulness isn’t instinctual. We have to decide to be hopeful. Sometimes that reminder arrives as a calm whisper, like the one held in this painting. And sometimes it’s simply the choice to stay soft in a world that feels sharp.