https://johnpavlovitz.com/2018/08/01/the-miserable-people/
Miserable.
Every time I see them, this is the word that prevails.
Whenever I encounter a supporter of this President on social media now, or scan the crowds at his propaganda rallies, or see his surrogates bloviating on talk shows or pounding upon pulpits, I am left with the same conclusion: they are a people bereft of joy.
There is no happiness, no benevolence, nothing life-giving left there.
The emotional deficit is continually on display:
In their contorted, sneering countenance; in their so readily brandished middle finger; in their steady spit shower of verbal filth. With each angry gesture and with every slandering epithet, they reveal in high-definition detail what it looks like when someone loses the light inside them.
War does this to the human heart. These people are at war with the world.
…………..
The world in their heads is composed almost entirely of enemies and adversaries—and as a result they are perpetually disgusted. If I had that many enemies to fight, I’d be unendingly pissed off too. I’d probably pity them a lot more if I didn’t have to endure them.
These are the wildest of ironies: Their President is in the White House, their politicians commandeer the House and Senate, the Supreme Court is tilted on their favor—and yet they still manage to feel themselves oppressed, still picture the world unfair, still rage against a machine they’ve made and are part of. So many of them claim faith in Jesus, and yet live in almost polar opposition to his example.
The only time they do smile, is to reflect the arrogant, self-satisfied sneer of their leader; almost always in the face of someone else’s heartache or misfortune, almost always when someone else loses something. They only joy they seem capable of manufacturing, is in response to pain.
……………
I realize that this has become the difference now; the dividing line in this version of America. It is between joyful people and miserable people.
There are those who live open-handed toward the world, and those whose fists are balled tightly; those who are driven by compassion, and those fueled by anger; those who want a bigger table, and those feel the table is exclusively theirs.
Miserable.
Every time I see them, this is the word that prevails.
Whenever I encounter a supporter of this President on social media now, or scan the crowds at his propaganda rallies, or see his surrogates bloviating on talk shows or pounding upon pulpits, I am left with the same conclusion: they are a people bereft of joy.
There is no happiness, no benevolence, nothing life-giving left there.
The emotional deficit is continually on display:
In their contorted, sneering countenance; in their so readily brandished middle finger; in their steady spit shower of verbal filth. With each angry gesture and with every slandering epithet, they reveal in high-definition detail what it looks like when someone loses the light inside them.
War does this to the human heart. These people are at war with the world.
…………..
The world in their heads is composed almost entirely of enemies and adversaries—and as a result they are perpetually disgusted. If I had that many enemies to fight, I’d be unendingly pissed off too. I’d probably pity them a lot more if I didn’t have to endure them.
These are the wildest of ironies: Their President is in the White House, their politicians commandeer the House and Senate, the Supreme Court is tilted on their favor—and yet they still manage to feel themselves oppressed, still picture the world unfair, still rage against a machine they’ve made and are part of. So many of them claim faith in Jesus, and yet live in almost polar opposition to his example.
The only time they do smile, is to reflect the arrogant, self-satisfied sneer of their leader; almost always in the face of someone else’s heartache or misfortune, almost always when someone else loses something. They only joy they seem capable of manufacturing, is in response to pain.
……………
I realize that this has become the difference now; the dividing line in this version of America. It is between joyful people and miserable people.
There are those who live open-handed toward the world, and those whose fists are balled tightly; those who are driven by compassion, and those fueled by anger; those who want a bigger table, and those feel the table is exclusively theirs.
