I discovered I was a cynic while in a church, 6,000 miles from home. It was summer in Buenos Aires, and the pastor had just started his sermon. I realized I was looking at the pastor with disdain, sure nothing he said could change me or anyone else.
Back in San Diego, I’d often felt the same way, but I blamed my church of 25 years. Except here, half a world away, the negativity was still with me. That’s when I realized I was the problem.
Help me, God, I said, shivering. I didn’t want to feel cynical any more.
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