Cynical Attitude.

You’ve got to get over this cynical attitude.

That’s what they tell me. But I don’t care. I know I need to. I need to do a lot of things. I need to go to bed right now so I can get over this illness that propels me to curl up in the fetal position and rock myself to sleep.


Lately I’ve been your typical cynical college student. I find flaws in everything, little things annoy me. I complain about them to my friends. But it’s not just the people who walk too slowly down the sidewalk and won’t get out of your way. Lately I’ve been very cynical about the church. I’ve sat through multiple church services wondering why I was there. I watched mothers cry while I stifled laughter. What kind of a monster am I?

But behind all these manic depressive comments lies something deeper. Sometimes I wonder if Jesus felt this way. After all, everything that I think has to be right. Jesus must have been a lot like me. People wonder how Christianity earned such a bad name. It’s because every arrogant, prick of a Christian (myself included) thinks that Jesus must have been just like them. Somehow I know Jesus doesn’t think like me. Jesus is somehow able to look past all the foolish things we notice and appreciate something deeper. He’s able to love both the victim and the perpetrator, and I don’t understand how he does it.

Somewhere in there is the exit from my cynical attitude. And perhaps it’s simply taking the time with Jesus. How else do you expect to become more like someone? I’m so damn judgmental, I always think I’m right. I think I know it all, and I’m conceited enough to think that God doesn’t need to teach me. It’s all the other Christians that have it all screwed up. I know what I’m talking about. I probably sound like Peter every time he stuck his foot in his mouth. But even worse, I’m more like Judas. I hang out at the back of the crowd of disciples, totally unnoticed. I don’t spend any time with Jesus, but I like to be on the fringe. I read about the things he did, and I marvel at how impossible he is to understand. But I don’t take the time to sit down with him and ask for help. I remind myself not to be a jerk every day, but I don’t ask Jesus to help me not be a jerk. The next thing you know, I’ll be thirty pieces of silver richer and hanging in a field.

You’ve got to get over this cynical attitude.

I know. I know.

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