Sacred Cynicism

During the past week my wife and I have been traveling around the Pacific Northwest for the first time in our lives. It was an area in which we have never been, and we thought it would be great to see it for ourselves. One week into our journey I can say this is a truly beautiful area. There are stunning vistas, green mountains, and enormous trees – all things we do not get to see in the flat Midwest. As beautiful as this area is, I have to admit it is awfully cloudy and dreary at times. Yes, it rains in the Midwest, but the rain here is different. We have experienced extended stretches of low clouds, fog, wind, and persistent, heavy drizzle. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but if drizzle can be heavy, it is here.

A few days ago we were driving along the Oregon coast, stopping at scenic overlooks, waterfalls, and lighthouses. These were beautiful places, at least I am assuming that they are, since we saw very little of these spots. The fog, wind, and drizzle restricted our views, and at times, our durability. There was the consistent temptation to say, “this would really be great if the sun would just come out, and allow us to enjoy the day.” Another version of this is, “we could enjoy ourselves if the weather would just cooperate.” There are probably some who are reading this who are thinking, “what is wrong with saying that?” After all, no one likes rain, wind and gloom. The problem with these sentiments is the topic this week.

In some ways all of our lives are similar. We all experience times of blessing, mixed with our respective shares of disappointment, pain, and loss. Just as we toured the coastline of Oregon in the midst of persistent drizzle, many of us go through life with a constant reminder that things are less than ideal. While difficulty may not be a downpour, it can be a constant, nagging companion through life. Sometimes we can catch ourselves saying, “if this would only change, then I would be happy,” or we might say, “if this circumstance changes, then I could be a better parent/friend/spouse, etc.” The problem is we do not have control over many of the circumstances of life, and if we surrender our joy or contentment to circumstances, then we are ceding a certain vitality to things we have no control over whatsoever.

I think Paul learned this lesson at some point in his life. I am not sure he learned this lesson while advancing to the Jewish high council at a young age, but I think he learned it in a prison cell, or recovering from his wounds, or perhaps wondering why he was thrown out of yet another town. From his place under house arrest, Paul wrote the following words, “for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” Notice that Paul did not say that he had learned to be happy about bad things in life, he stated he had learned to not let bad circumstances undermine his joy, his peace, or his love. To place it in the language of my week, Paul had learned to keep his eye on the waterfall, not on the falling drizzle. He had learned to see through the fog so he can see the lighthouse clearer.

The truth is all of us will experience dark days in this life – none of us will be immune. Our choice is not whether trial will visit us or not, our choice is how will trial affect us. Pain will touch all of our lives, will we let it tarnish our heart, or mar the condition of our Spirit. If we are not careful we may find relationships strained, friendships tarnished, and love deadened because we let circumstances control our responses. Drizzle and fog can make the walk difficult, but they cannot take away the reality of the lighthouse on the coast. Perhaps some of us are walking through a persistent drizzle right now. If you are, keep on walking and lift up your head, there might be something greater that you can see through the gloom.