Realistic Contentment

Those of us who have spent more than a decade on earth among people are fully aware that life closely resembles a roller coaster: ups and downs, fasts and slows, and a fair share of nauseating turns. That's simply life. The only factor we control is how we respond to these changes.

Frequently, and in response to practically any circumstance that appears even remotely hopeful, my instinctual reaction is happy delusion (dubbed thus only in retrospect, of course). I allow myself to believe that the best really can be true, even if it defies all logic. Obviously, this delusion is accompanied by extreme happiness. Later – moments or months – I realize I had jumped the gun and sacrificed good sense for possible good fortune. The realization is painful, and my emotions do a virtual 180, dropping me into bitter pessimism – my previous lesson has taught me to expect only the worst.

I don't seem to manage a happy medium. Bitter pessimism is not at all realistic. Logic requires that I admit that things won't turn out horribly every time simply because they have in the past. Unfortunately, neither can I prevent myself from diving head-long into delusion when the facts obviously revolt against hope. Realistic contentment evades me.

The most plausible explanation for this is that my emotional framework is defined almost exclusively by my current circumstances. I lack the foresight to prevent delusion and the grace to accept temporary defeat.

One important item to note before too long is that I would consider myself a realist verging on pessimism. That is why I have no qualms calling myself delusional for believing happiness is inevitable. I may not have lived a very long life, but I have seen enough to know that rose-colored glasses don't provide an accurate view of the world. Somehow, however, I still manage to allow myself those strange moments of spontaneous optimism when it appears as if things are going my way. There will be no explaining away that quirk of my personality.

This realism of mine can become very dangerous, especially if I let it control my mood. Whether it's a fizzling friendship, someone I love experiencing irreversible crisis, or unrest in the Middle East, trouble will find its way into my consciousness. Denying that fact is delusional; dwelling on that fact is dangerous.

I have not yet found a way to change my personality. I am a realist – whether by nature or nurture – and no amount of time or therapy will change that. I have a history of letting this trait deter me from contentment, and that cannot continue. Instead, reality needs to become the foundation for this contentment.

The bottom line here is this: if I were truly aware of my reality, bitter pessimism would never find a foothold. Likewise, if I dig beyond the surface of my circumstances, my happiness would be based on fact, not illogical delusions.

My reality does not consist merely of friendships or life events. A day is not comprised only of success at work and adequate caffeination. My reality is founded on the sacrifice of Jesus. I am a sinner. I deserve to die. And yet I am allowed to live – and not a bland, pointless life, but a life full of fellowship with my Creator and Redeemer. God, who created everything that determines my reality, loves me deeply. That is my reality.

Based on these facts, this realist can in fact experience joy in life's frequent disappointments. I don't have to let reality get me down. The true Foundation of my joy is unshakable. While I can't claim to be able to prevent either the happy delusion or the rapid transformation into bitter pessimism, I know I don't have to choose between them. There is a third choice for me: realistic contentment.

The world is heavy, and my shoulders are frail, but despite it all I am content.