A professional counselor told me last week, after I said something was “cheesy,” that more often than not, in her experience, people who use words like “cheesy” and “corny” find the emotional side of their relationship with God rather lacking. That is, something about the use of those words triggers in her questions regarding the person’s emotional connection with God.
And her intuition is right when it comes to me. I don’t know that I’ve ever really felt long term emotional closeness with God. Quite often, because of the lack of emotional connection with God, I have sought God out in other ways – intellectually, for example.
But I don’t know what to do with her insights. I don’t want to go the rest of my life and never “feel” God’s presence in a meaningful way. The psalms of Lament are great sustenance in hard times, but it’s hard to live your entire life on the diet they provide.
And the other element of this is, I genuinely think some things really are cheesy. Bad art really does exist…especially bad “Christian” art. And I think we need to be aware of it.
Now, I have no doubt that the same cynicism the pops it’s head up in my usage of the word “cheesy” is somehow connected to my cynicism and lack of “feeling” God’s presence in my life.
Sometimes.
But is all of it? Is cynicism always a bad thing? Could it be that cynicism is exactly what the church needs at times to challenge our cliché’s and easy answers? And wasn’t it cynicism that ultimately coincided with some of the post powerful spiritual revivals in Christian history? (No one can deny that Luther and Calvin were cynical!)
But if my cynicism is ruining my ability to see and feel the love of God, ruining my ability to communicate the depths of that love to others, then I want to change – I want to be more “cheesy,” if that’s what it takes.
So what do you think? Does her observation ring true in your experience? Is there a middle way? Is cynicism always wrong? Or is my cynicism more a product of my postmodern context than Christ’s activity in my heart? Am I just spiritually justifying my cynicism?
I’ll be asking her these same questions next time I see her. But for now, I’d like your thoughts.
Tom, I think a healthy dose of cynicism is the balance to over emotionalism. Sometimes, IMO, cynicism is another term for discernment; it just doesn’t appeal, typically, to an evangelical mindset. Which, in my experience, is usually along the lines of “get saved and everything will be okay.” Ever read Kierkegaard? Merton? Vanier? Nouwen? All engagers of cynicism; however, as they did not , I’m not positive that cynicism, much like emotion, is what I’d like to stay in for any particular length of time in order to measure my relationship with God upon. Life simply doesn’t work like that. It changes.
And I’d like to pose a question to you. When you state that you’ve experienced the lack of an emotional connection with God, to which emotions are you referring? Ever been pissed off at God? Ever been depressed and wondered about your spirituality? Ever felt anticipation for the answer or manifestation of a prayer you’d prayed? Just what emotional connection have you lacked with God? And, if you don’t find any of these have been a part of your experience with God, would you classify yourself as a Christian Stoic?
Peace bro.
Dan
Dan, do you think there’s a difference between cynicism and discernment? That maybe cynicism is the dark side of discernment?…discernment gone wrong?
But you are right, and raise the exact questions I’ve raised in my own heart.
I’d say that the connection is severed in my ability to feel the love of God shed abroad in my heart. I cognitively ‘know’ he loves me and that’s been good enough for me so far. But rarely have I ‘felt’ it. And, honestly, it makes me a bit jealous when I see other believers (Dr. Mulholland, for example!) who seem to just walk in and bask in the love of God. I wonder if I’m missing something…I know I’m missing something.
But, yes, I’ve been angry, depressed, etc. The severing mostly just has to do with love. And I have no doubt that there are deep seated psychological and even theological reasons for that.
In the end, I want to take criticism and correction seriously. But I want to be thoughtful about it, too.
Tom,
Do I think there’s a difference between the two or do I think that cynicism is the dark side of discernment? No. I wouldn’t categorize cynicism as discernment gone wrong unless that cynicism is understood to be the final view on “x, y, or z” subject. Just like I would if emotion were taken too far. I, personally, believe that cynicism has a place in the life of a believer. According to dictionary.com, there are three definitions for cynicism. It is the first that I think is necessary:
“like or characteristic of a cynic; distrusting or disparaging the motives of others.”
The other two I would not describe as normative for the Christian life, as they are indicative of bitterness, exploitation, and contempt.
Granted, I’m not one to offer trust in a willey-nilley fashion. I wonder to what degree we can categorize Paul’s behavior as cynical in regard to the Judaizers? Did he trust their motives? Can we see something akin to cynicism, if not definitive cynicism, in his reproach of them?
And, for what reason(s) might cynicism not have a place in the life of a believer? Other than the fact that most evangelicals are terrified of their “negative” emotions?
I think you wrestle with something that I wrestle with too, and that makes me feel better about myself – haha. But seriously, here’s some of my thoughts in no linear or logical order . . . and as a warning, some are tangential.
First, I keep wondering how faith relates to the emotive, intellectual, and volitional aspect of human life. It seems that for some, faith is often reduced to happy emotions; for some, to cognitive ascent to propositions; and for some, to sheer human will and determination (a.k.a., I believe!). All of these fall short, no doubt. But what does it mean to be ‘close to God,’ to have faith? Shoot, are these two things (faith and closeness to God) even related?
Second, I wonder how much of this “closeness” language is often times clouded with specific understandings of God . . . namely that God is a person we interact with like any other person. Is he? If he were, then the professional counselor might be on to something, for a relationship with God might look like any other relationship. But is it? Surely God isn’t a person or a thing, so in what sense do we even interact/relate with God? The Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church gave a very controversial speech/sermon a few years ago when she listed one of the great heresies of the Western Church as the notion of a “personal relationship” with God. Hauerwas emphasizes a similar discomfort with contemporary evangelicalism.
Third, I keep thinking of the apophatic (negation) tradition here. Even after the Council of Nicea there were Eastern theologians stressing that God is not one substance like we understand substance, nor is God three persons as we understand three persons. What all this basically amounts to (the analogia entis in respect to our language) is that no depiction of God (picture or words) will ever do God justice, for God is beyond language and creation itself. There is some truth to the football Jesus picture above, yet there is some (a lot!?) distortion as well. The same could be said of a 13th Century crucifix (though we would probably both admit that a crucifix might contain more truth and less distortion about Christ). Could the “cynicism” you’re describing be part of that apophatic tradition pushing back, saying, “Hey, there might be some good here, but there’s also some (or a lot of) dissonance as well.”
Oh well. I struggle with what you’ve described in your post.
Pingback: Cynicism: A Confession « Kalev Hinrich
Tom– I think the kind of raw honesty and vulnerability in this post is the antidote to cynicism. As I understand it, cynicism is a way of protecting ourselves. The question is what are we seeking to protect ourselves from.
I think cynicism corrodes hope. It erodes the imagination. You raise a good question w respect to discernment. I need to reflect on that.
In becoming vulnerable, (which in my own experience is not so much an unwillingness as it is an incompetence), cynicism is subverted and hope springs forth. It is manifested in the courage to ask the kinds of questions you are asking in your post. In this way, vulnerability serves as a kind of cancer treatment; radiation or chemotherapy.
This notion of cure or healing makes a lot of sense when we consider the origin of the word vulnerable– it comes from the Latin word, “vulne” which means “the wound.” to become vulnerable is to expose the hidden wound of our heart in a way that healing can come.
Now I think the sign of the death of cynicism and the healing of the heart is the emergence of Joy. Joy, not as in emotion but as in manifestation of the Holy Spirit in the human spirit. I’m not there yet, and for sure I think this is a process– a pilgrimage. For just as cynicism protects us from some kind of wound or pain, it also insulates us from Joy.
Scripture makes reference to joy in many ways. One of the prominent ones has to do with the rising of the sun. Joy comes in the morning. It breaks forth like the dawn, and it slowly and almost imperceptibly moves through the sky. I don’t think it is necessarily about emotion (though I don’t eschew emotion). Joy is about wellness. It is a faith that can watch the sun set and enter the darkness with the sure confidence that morning will come again– as sure as the sun.
Thank you for helping us to process this.
Great post, Tom.
Kitsch is emotionally shallow. Someone said that kitschy art doesn’t make us feel something, so much as it allows us to enjoy the idea that we are feeling something. Precious Moments bible scenes don’t move us to feel anything, but they may allow us to pretend to experience some emotion and thereby to enjoy our own feelings of “piety.” Kitsch is really just a flattering mirror.
This is why kitsch is really cynical. Instead of giving us an experience, it allows us to “buy” a cheapened version of that experience in a consumerist way.
REMEMBER THE TITANS sells us the experience of racial enlightenment in a flattering and therefore cynical way.
THOMAS KINCADE (sp?) sells us the experience of the wonder of nature in a flattering and therefore cynical way..
ETC…
Seems like fake expressions of sincerity do much the same. They take the form of sincere communication and package it in a way that doesn’t really communicate. I always hate that southern phrase, “Bless your heart,” which always strikes me as being a horribly superficial, canned response to someone’s travail and therefore the complete opposite of a compassionate response. (I wish I could think of something canned that I say, but nothing comes to mind. I’m sure I do this too.)
I love Paul Ricoeur’s analysis in “Symbolism of Evil.” He points out how faith starts with “first naivte” in which we easily correlate our feelings, ideas, words, with the ultimate mysteries to which they point. We easily say “God told me” or “The Lord did that” or “The devil was after me.” Then as we learn, grow, think, study, and process contradictory experience, we move into a critical phase. This is a liminal stage, in which all the previous ideas are questioned, set aside, and a kind of cynicism and skepticism can set in. We realize the inadequacy of our language, the culturally conditioned nature of our experience, how little we really know about the great realities beyond our words. Sadly, many people just stay right there. But Ricoeur notes a third stage, which he calls the “second naivte” in which we come to realize that however fragile and broken our language, however limited our perceptions, they are in fact all we have, and they are the gift and fruit of centuries of reflection by others just as smart, critically aware, and experientially grounded as we are. We pick up the old simplistic language again, but with a recognition that while it is adequate, it is not exhaustive. It is sufficient for talking meaningfully about truth, error, good and evil, sin and holiness, but it is a kind of “interface” connected to the sacred realities to which they point by more levels of mediation that we realize. So we can talk about God speaking to us, God leading us, etc. even though we are aware how risky and fragile that talk actually is.
Lawson,
This sounds a bit like the difference between univocal, equivocal, and analogical God-talk. We begin in the univocal stage, move to a point where clear 1-to-1 correspondence breaks down and perhaps become skeptical about God-talk, and then synthesize these two into analogical language.
Didn’t realize until just a little while ago that there were so many new comments on this thread. Thank you all for your contributions. I especially like what JD had to say about joy being about wellness.
And I really appreciate Dr. Stone’s comments on a second naivte; THAT’S where I’d like to be. And that’s where I pray God is moving me. And I’m guessing part of that stage is ceasing the ‘eye rolling’ that the second stage engages in when it encounters a person in the first stage. That’s going to be hard, but I think it’s going to be necessary for me.
I use to be like this.
I always wanted to distance myself from the mouth-breather christians…. the republicans …. the people who lived in the suburbs and I thought were unconsciously racist.
I didn’t find my identity in knowing Christ … I found my identity in being one of those christians get “got it” a little bit better than everyone else.
Hipster christianity? Is that a good word for it? It’s disaffected. It’s post modern. It’s embarrassed by overt displays of loving Christ. And yet Christ’s words boom, “If you deny me before men I will deny you before my father in heaven.”
And then God showed up in my life. And something changed. Something akin to what David experienced when he danced like an idiot in the procession of his Lord. I didn’t care anymore.
I don’t look upon cheesy christians with disdain anymore. They are figuring it out. Just like I am. I’m great at seeing the sin and silliness in them but how bad at seeing it in myself?
–
Oh wait… but the really really important thing….
The thing that has revolutionized my internal christian life is this:
Whenever I come before the Lord and open the word I assume that my heart ought to be completely flooded with passion and love for him. When I open the word and everything feels dead to me, I ASK GOD TO CHANGE ME. I sit and I wait and I assume there is something broken with my heart that he can fix.
I wait on the Lord and I want nothing more for my heart to be flooded by him.
And he always does it! He always shows up! Might be a couple hours, might be a week later.