On Cynicism and Belief

You’re so jaded, she whispers as I make another snide comment from the next chair.

I know she’s right.

It’s a coping mechanism, you know.

We cynics are wounded idealists.

Secretly we love a happily ever after, but we’ve lived long enough to know that it ain’t happening.

At least not any time soon.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons that I find this Story so compelling.

Promise.  Hope.  A Redeemer who will set it all right.

Yes, my heart whispers.  Yes, please.  Let it be true.

It’s just, you know, the mess.

I get hung up on the mess every time.

I’ve grown up in church.

I’ve spent pretty much my whole life loving Jesus in the best way that I know how.

And still I look around and see so, so much mess.

We cynics don’t trust easily.

But the word today is believe (Romans 3:22).

Believe.

In Greek (y’all know I love my Greek) it means entrust.

Put your trust here.

Not in the mess.  Not even in the story.

But in its Author.

And so, it’s here (again) that I hang my hope.

It’s here that I dare to expose my wounded idealist’s heart.

Because the mess is real.

But the story is true.

And the Author is trustworthy.

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