It’s 3:50 a.m., and I’ve been awake since 2. My mind simply won’t quiet down long enough for me to go back to sleep. What am I thinking about at this ridiculous hour? My daughters, relationships, war, carpets, hunger, finances, cancer, and so on. These thoughts race through my mind, all from the comfort of my nice, warm bed. Once again, I find myself in cognitive dissonance.
Perhaps I’m not using this phrase precisely, but my sleep deprivation might earn me a “pass.” Merriam-Webster defines cognitive dissonance as: “psychological conflict resulting from incongruous beliefs and attitudes held simultaneously.” In my interpretation, it’s a longing for peace, justice, healing, fairness, and righteousness in broken places, all while acknowledging the privilege I live in.
I remember hearing a speaker many years ago who said something like, “We were never designed to take in news from all over the world. We do not have the capacity to process and respond to information about evil and suffering across the globe while living fully engaged in our local community.” I took that to mean we have enough to deal with in our small geographical space and can’t commit the mental and emotional energy to problems in faraway places.
Well, by design or not, the reality is that we are now aware of crises across the globe. From the devastation and starvation in Gaza to the war in Ukraine to the chaos in Haiti, we are bombarded with news about the suffering of others. How are we to respond?
Actually, I don’t think this is a group exercise. There is no “we” in this narrative, but instead, a “me” and what I am called to do. It is a question we all must ask ourselves.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve been studying the Sermon on the Mount in church. Talk about cognitive dissonance—at least to the American way of thinking! If you aren’t familiar with the text, here it is from Matthew 5:3–11 (ESV):
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
This text was as revolutionary 2,000+ years ago as it is today. Feelings are dictated by our circumstances, and to experience comfort in mourning, blessing in persecution, or rejoicing amid evil being done to you is simply not natural. Hence, our need for the supernatural.
So where does this leave me in the early morning hours? In acceptance of how things are, while still longing for change. My brain and emotions are often at war with each other because all is not well in the world. Is it right for me to enjoy the blessings I have while witnessing the suffering of others? Somehow, I think the answer is yes, and…
Yes, I should be thankful for the gift of home, family, and love.
And, I should do what I can to help others.
Yes, I am grateful for a job that pays me to do hard work in my community.
And, I should engage in this work fully aware that the people I serve have endured unimaginable trauma.
Yes, I can enjoy a movie, a dinner out, or an item that makes my home beautiful.
And, I must never let comfort cloud my view of those in need.
Cognitive dissonance has become my new normal. Each day, I feel a greater need to be intentional in thought and action.
I will not change the world. But I commit to changing myself. And in doing so, I hope to enact some small degree of change for those with whom I have the opportunity to interact. May I remain outward-focused, seeking every opportunity to be a blessing to others—even when I don’t want to.