On trust and arrogance...

Something Tim Keller said in a sermon (from a while ago) bothered me lately. Those of us who are naively blown away by the horrible nature of those around us are arrogant in that not only do we underestimate the horrible nature of humans, but we somehow also manage to count ourselves so exempt from it that that kind of horribleness is actually surprising.

If it is so hard for us to understand the completeness of God's love for us, why is it so easy to love certain people so naively? And if it's so hard for us to trust God, the same God who created us and knows us better than we know ourselves, why are we so quick to trust the broken people in our lives who are the least deserving of trust?

But then aren't we supposed to? Doesn't everybody deserve to be loved? Or do we not deserve anything at all? If human nature is really that horrible, how are we supposed to love each other? If we don't have an ounce of naivety or a glimmer of faith in humanity, where do we find ourselves within a community? Or within any relationship?

To fully understand the depravity of the human condition, wouldn't we become the world's greatest cynics?

So again, in my mind, there's a dichotomy that comes with the extremes. People are a certain way and as a result of that, the preachers of that particular society preach the opposite way, partly assuming nobody will ever get to the other side. We're supposed to try and end up somewhere in the middle, where we're ideally supposed to land, I guess. But I'm all or nothing girl and if you point me in a direction, I'll tell you what is at the end of that path.

It's like when I hear people from the south pleading for more sexual freedom. They believe that acquiring certain freedoms they don't have yet will solve all the ills of their society. But here in Quebec, we are the exact result of those freedoms acquired and we've got a whole new set of issues to face. Nobody expects to "get there from here" when they start their fight. Nobody who sees the greener grass on the other side of the fence expects to somehow end up living there.

But isn't that human nature- that desire for things to be better even though we have no idea what that actually means?

That's how I fit in community, whenever I actually do. I see the potential. I see the bags and boundaries people have and I hope that one day, they'll break through them and release their better, unhindered self. But then, they kind of prove Tim Keller's theory and make me feel utterly naive followed by the inevitable arrogance that comes as a result of the surprise that a human could turn away from growth and turn towards horrible, hurtful, deceitful things instead.

But if I think I'm a good person, or at least I think my intentions are generally good, then how is it wrong to hold other people to a standard of goodness that is me? Obviously, I'm not perfect and I have terrible parts of my person too, but if I know how hard I try to do things right, to be honest and to live with empathy, then why is it arrogant to assume I'm not the only one who achieves this particular standard, however high or low that is? That doesn't mean I think I'm all good- I'm still broken and selfish, but I don't think I could ever do to others what some have done to me, especially the ones whose intentions were terrible. You know what I mean?

I think at our most cynical points in life, we do take reassurance in a couple or a few of the people around us, as if just knowing they exist makes the world, and humanity in particular, less horrible. If we really did fully grasp the reality that is human brokenness, I'm not sure we'd get out of bed in the morning. I don't think we'd survive without the glimmer of hope we get from acts of kindness and unconditional love.

Sure, God is supposed to be enough, but if He is enough and this world is really that horrible, why would we stay here? Why would we endure this?

We are created in God's image so why would it be so terrible to look for godly traits in each other? Or worse, to expect them?

As bad as it sounds, I guess I'm lucky that my brokenness doesn't usually affect other people as much as it could. Most of my brokenness is self-destructive rather than projected. And while for me, there's no real difference there- brokenness is brokenness- I'm still glad that the emotional casualties of my life have been at the very least decreasing in number the more I grow.

That's all we can do, right? Grow? Grow in trust for God. Grow in love for God. Grow in love for each other?

And maybe I misunderstood Tim Keller's point. Maybe he didn't mean the worst of the worst of human beings catching the naive among us off guard, but the more simple every day broken people. Maybe he doesn't expect us to not be surprised when a best friend assaults us or a loved one turns out to be a complete sociopathic fraud. Maybe he just means the arguments and the misunderstandings and the tiny, almost insignificant betrayals.

Because I can't imagine being the kind of person who gets suddenly physically mauled by somebody close or gets a middle of the night phone call that is an absolute rape of the soul and isn't surprised. That kind of person, to me, is just broken beyond repair.

To understand the brokenness is one thing, but to expect the absolute worst all the time is something entirely different. And I just don't think that's the world perspective with which God wants us to live. So I must have misunderstood TK.