Optimized
I recently took an "optimism aptitude" test as part of a book I'm reading by Martin Seligman called "Authentic Happiness." In response to your smirks and/or snickers, I am not reading this book voluntarily.
Even though this book is required for my "Counseling Theory" class, I'm actually enjoying reading it in hopes of applying it to my everyday life. I mean, I didn't have to take the quiz to know I tend toward pessimism. There's no doubt in my mind that I would benefit from "Learned Optimism" and strategies for reversing an untrue, negative assumption about myself and/or others. What was surprising about the results was that I tend to be optimistic about the bad things that happen to me, whereas the good things that happen to me I tend interpret pessimistically. So, if I find out I failed a test, it's not insurmountable that I'll bounce back relatively quickly. If, in the next class period let's say, I later find out that I made the best grade in the class on a given test, I'm more likely to pass it off as "luck" rather than "I'm an intelligent person."
So, what's a pessimist to do with this observation? Realistically, probably nothing. The persistent optimist in me, however, will recall the principle of taking every thought captive and making it obedient to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5). The pessimist in me will start tomorrow. The optimist started this morning at church.
Preparing my notebook for note-taking this morning at Birchwood Baptist, I simply headed the page with the word, "listening." I've struggled with "depressive Sundays" perpetually, and I was determined to at least be engaged in the message in contrast to my habitual passive hearing. Though I couldn't tell you exactly what the content of the message was, what the pastor's take home point was, or what the prayer challenged us to do as we were dismissed into "weekly living," I can tell you that I never once asked myself, "how much longer?" because I was fully concentrated on finding specific verses in the Bible that supplemented the pastor's initial passage. I had a great time challenging myself to really seek, instead of allowing myself to be an unsoftened sponge (which, once softened, takes every little word the softener says with very little critical thinking). I must say, there are only a few people who have softened my crusty sponge exterior, and all of which have gained my favor, my loyalty, and my trust. I have, for good or bad, allowed Birchwood none of those rights. I think that's what's made growth in that church so hard for me. And that's what made this morning so refreshing. The church didn't change, the music didn't change, and the message didn't change, but I changed perspectives and challenged myself to create a place of facilitated learning.
This time, it wasn't luck, nor was it mere "positive thinking." Rather, it was pure and stubborn pessimism surrendered to God's pervading and evocative hope. The struggle isn't so much pointing out the green grass more than the yellow, it's about simply noticing that the presence of both green and yellow blades don't diminish or increase its identity as grass. It's coming to a place where I can acknowledge and experience both the forest and the trees, neither depriving my sense of the other.
Even though this book is required for my "Counseling Theory" class, I'm actually enjoying reading it in hopes of applying it to my everyday life. I mean, I didn't have to take the quiz to know I tend toward pessimism. There's no doubt in my mind that I would benefit from "Learned Optimism" and strategies for reversing an untrue, negative assumption about myself and/or others. What was surprising about the results was that I tend to be optimistic about the bad things that happen to me, whereas the good things that happen to me I tend interpret pessimistically. So, if I find out I failed a test, it's not insurmountable that I'll bounce back relatively quickly. If, in the next class period let's say, I later find out that I made the best grade in the class on a given test, I'm more likely to pass it off as "luck" rather than "I'm an intelligent person."
So, what's a pessimist to do with this observation? Realistically, probably nothing. The persistent optimist in me, however, will recall the principle of taking every thought captive and making it obedient to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5). The pessimist in me will start tomorrow. The optimist started this morning at church.
Preparing my notebook for note-taking this morning at Birchwood Baptist, I simply headed the page with the word, "listening." I've struggled with "depressive Sundays" perpetually, and I was determined to at least be engaged in the message in contrast to my habitual passive hearing. Though I couldn't tell you exactly what the content of the message was, what the pastor's take home point was, or what the prayer challenged us to do as we were dismissed into "weekly living," I can tell you that I never once asked myself, "how much longer?" because I was fully concentrated on finding specific verses in the Bible that supplemented the pastor's initial passage. I had a great time challenging myself to really seek, instead of allowing myself to be an unsoftened sponge (which, once softened, takes every little word the softener says with very little critical thinking). I must say, there are only a few people who have softened my crusty sponge exterior, and all of which have gained my favor, my loyalty, and my trust. I have, for good or bad, allowed Birchwood none of those rights. I think that's what's made growth in that church so hard for me. And that's what made this morning so refreshing. The church didn't change, the music didn't change, and the message didn't change, but I changed perspectives and challenged myself to create a place of facilitated learning.
This time, it wasn't luck, nor was it mere "positive thinking." Rather, it was pure and stubborn pessimism surrendered to God's pervading and evocative hope. The struggle isn't so much pointing out the green grass more than the yellow, it's about simply noticing that the presence of both green and yellow blades don't diminish or increase its identity as grass. It's coming to a place where I can acknowledge and experience both the forest and the trees, neither depriving my sense of the other.
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