The Struggle against Cynicism

Today as we were driving home from the a real church's Palm Sunday service we were listening to Garrison Keillor on a Prairie Home Companion talk about all the upcoming Holy Week service's in the radio program's fictional Lake Woebegone.  He said next week was Easter Sunday when the preacher would "tell us why we believe what we think we believe."  I had to smile a little but then I realized the reason why it was funny to me is because the statement is all too relevant.  Perhaps Keillor is nodding his hat to the idea that religion is a kind of "opiate of the masses" as Karl Marx proclaimed but whether or not that is where he was going what I found in it was the disconcerting reality of struggling to believe.  In many ways, I feel it is a struggle of faith against cynicism.

I just turned 30 this past week.  I am not all that concerned about the "big 3-0" because I see age as rather irrelevant to so many other factors in my life...."age ain't nothing but a number."  People often tell me they think I am younger (I have looked younger and acted youthful often) so that's not really an issue.  Also, I feel more or less satisfied with my life to this point and the direction it's going.  However, as I've gotten older my eyes have been opened more and more to the deep sadness and injustices there are and  the "childishness" of simply believing has become harder and harder.  I want to be mature and yet "childlike" at the same time.  It's constantly a struggle though in a culture that is full of cynicism.  It's true, sometimes I feel like I am in church to have others tell me "why I believe what I think I believe."

I've blogged about this difficulty recently here and I guess I'm just acknowledging that it's still going on.  Yet, when I think of the things I tell myself I believe I also dearly want to believe them.  I think of how audaciously epic Jesus is and his words that cut to your heart.  I think of the incredibly profound and beautiful overarching story of God in the Bible.  Then I think of how mysterious all of it is and it's at once comforting and terrifying.  Part of what makes me cynical at times is when I realize that what I say I believe is not what I live.  I'm distracted by comfort.  I'm distanced from being faithful by my own fears.  So frustrating.  In the end, I guess, if I don't come home to Jesus I know I'll just be a sorry cynic drowning in my own tears.  What I need is his transcendence to break my objections.  I want to believe because if I don't believe I'm left to myself.  I am not enough and I'm certain of that.  If Jesus can "make me enough" through his Grace and Power and also save the world, well, I'm all for that.  Hope, that's what cynics want.  A hope that transforms and makes things really change on the inside and outside...and this is what I'm hoping for now.

Walks and Weather

Alright, here I am continuing with the alliteration.  You know, it ain't a half bad way to title a post.  ;o)

I just came back from a walk out in the cold, wet, *nearly* spring world.  I had on my trusty black rain boots which I purchased from Practical Goods (a treasure trove of hand-picked items from estate sales and the like in a storefront) and so with this and some English, Irish and Scottish coursing through my blood, nothing phased me.  I came alive in the plodding about up and down the hilly neighborhood.  I feel so blessed to live in neighborhood with it's own charm of older houses, some well-kept, some not so much (but nothing falling apart), many interesting Victorian inspired designs and divergent roads that go zig-zag on the hill.  I even found a little slushy path that went down through the wooded hillside with blackened brambles set against the white snow.

I realized as I was walking about that I may be one of the only ones to voluntarily (without dog, without child) go on a walk "just because."  I guess I have developed this habit because I like weather.  I was thinking of quoting one of C.S. Lewis' characters in "That Hideous Strength" but I think I'll quote the whole passage because it makes more sense that way:

"Don't you like a rather foggy day in a wood in autumn? You'll find we shall be perfectly warm sitting in the car."
Jane said she'd never heard of anyone liking fogs before but she didn't mind trying. All three got in.
"That's why Camilla and I got married, "said Denniston as they drove off. "We both like Weather. Not this or that kind of weather, but just Weather. It's a useful taste if one lives in England."
"How ever did you learn to do that, Mr. Denniston?" said Jane. "I don't think I should ever learn to like rain and snow."
"It's the other way round," said Denniston. "Everyone begins as a child by liking Weather. You learn the art of disliking it as you grow up. Noticed it on a snowy day? The grown-ups are all going about with long faces, but look at the children - and the dogs? They know what snow's made for."
"I'm sure I hated wet days as a child," said Jane.
"That's because the grown-ups kept you in," said Camilla. "Any child loves rain if it's allowed to go out and paddle about in it.” 
― C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength