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It's our nature. We have to fight it. The end.
Ok, there's more to it than that. But, that first line is how I start drafts on thoughts that I want to put down and write about. Today, I'll confess, I am the worst at it. Paul mentions being the worst of sinners, or the chief of sinners, in 1 Timothy 1:15. Let me tell you, in this post, I may refer to myself as Paul.
We are ALL negative. Even those of us that think we aren't, we are. Why? Because it's sin nature. I have struggled with this my entire adult life. It comes from a lot of circumstances and patterns that developed, but as I look around, I don't see a lot of people that are genuinely positive, and it occurs to me that negativity is our nature. We are selfish, self-concerned, sinful human beings, and that's where the negativity comes from. So, yes, we are all that way. I'm positive about that!
Yes, that was a pun.
As I get older and try to actively combat that negative thought process in my mind, I've had to examine why it's such an easy lane to slip into. Well, let's dive into the myriad of reasons.
First, negativity is easy.
It takes almost no effort to identify what's wrong with something. We can walk into a room where 99 things are going well and immediately notice the one thing that isn't. Someone can compliment us ten times, and we'll spend the rest of the day thinking about the one slightly critical comment they made. An event can be wildly successful, and on the drive home, we're replaying the three things that didn't go according to plan. Maybe that's because negativity often disguises itself as discernment. We tell ourselves we're just being realistic. We're paying attention. We're problem-solvers. We have high standards. We're trying to make things better.
And sometimes, that's true.
Recognizing a problem isn't negativity. Calling something unhealthy isn't negativity. Addressing poor performance, bad behavior, dysfunction, or sin isn't negativity. There are things in life that actually are bad, broken, frustrating, painful, or wrong. Pretending otherwise isn't positivity. It's denial.
The problem comes when finding what's wrong becomes our default setting.
Eventually, we don't just recognize problems. We expect them. We look for them. We assume motives. We anticipate disappointment. We rehearse grievances. We complain about things that happened, things that might happen, and occasionally things that haven't happened but absolutely could happen, so we might as well be irritated about them now. Hello. My name is Paul.
Negativity is also incredibly contagious.
Have you ever walked into a conversation in a perfectly good mood and walked away annoyed about something you didn't even know you were supposed to be annoyed about?
Someone points something out, someone else adds another complaint, and suddenly we're all standing around building a case for why everything is terrible.
Complaining creates community surprisingly fast.
Unfortunately, it's not very healthy community.
Paul gives a painfully direct instruction in Philippians 2:14: "Do everything without grumbling or arguing."
Everything?
Surely there's an asterisk.
There is not.
And I don't think Paul wrote that because he was surrounded by people who never had legitimate reasons to complain. The early church had conflict, persecution, difficult personalities, disagreements, unmet expectations, and plenty of actual problems.
Yet Scripture repeatedly calls believers toward a different posture.
Philippians 4:8 tells us to intentionally think about what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.
That doesn't sound accidental.
Paul doesn't say, "Hopefully your mind naturally gravitates toward these things."
He says, essentially, think about these things.
That's active.
Because left unattended, my mind does not naturally create a highlight reel of everything good God has done. Mine is perfectly capable of producing a four-hour documentary entitled Everything That Annoyed Me This Week.
Apparently, I have to tell it what we're watching.
Someone else gets recognized, and we wonder why we weren't.
Someone else's idea gets chosen, and suddenly we can identify twelve reasons it won't work.
Someone else's ministry grows. Someone gets promoted. Someone receives an opportunity. Someone buys something nicer than ours. Someone's kids appear to have their lives together on Instagram.
And instead of celebrating, there's that tiny little voice:
"Well..."
You know the voice.
Comparison can turn another person's blessing into our grievance.
But Romans 12:15 tells us to "Rejoice with those who rejoice."
That's difficult to do while simultaneously keeping score.
One of the healthiest disciplines I've tried to develop is learning to genuinely celebrate somebody else's win without immediately filtering it through what it means about me.
Their success is not my failure. Their recognition does not diminish my value. Someone else receiving something good doesn't mean God has forgotten where I live.
This one is practical, but it's also incredibly important.
Everything looks worse when you're tired.
Minor inconveniences become major offenses. A poorly worded email suddenly requires a congressional investigation. Someone asking one additional question feels like a personal attack.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do about your attitude is sleep.
Elijah gives us a pretty remarkable example in 1 Kings 19. He had just experienced an incredible victory on Mount Carmel, but shortly afterward, he was exhausted, afraid, isolated, and asking God to take his life.
And God's first response wasn't a lecture.
Elijah slept.
He ate.
Then he slept and ate again.
Only after that did God deal with what was happening in his heart.
That doesn't mean every spiritual or emotional struggle can be solved with a sandwich and a nap.
Although, let's be honest, some can.
It does mean we're whole people. Physical exhaustion, chronic stress, overwork, poor boundaries, and carrying too much for too long affect how we see everything around us.
Before deciding that everyone in your life is suddenly incompetent, you may want to ask when you last had a day off.
This one gets me.
Someone doesn't respond.
Someone walks past without speaking.
Someone makes a decision we don't understand.
Someone sends a short text.
And our brains begin writing a screenplay.
"They're upset."
"They don't respect me."
"They intentionally left me out."
"They should know better."
"They obviously don't care."
The incredible part is how quickly assumptions become facts in our minds.
We don't know what someone meant, but we react emotionally as though we've established motive beyond a reasonable doubt.
Scripture warns us repeatedly about being slow to anger and quick to listen. James 1:19 says we should be "quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry."
That order matters.
Listen first.
Speak second.
Anger gets the slow lane.
Negativity reverses the order. We become angry first, speak second, and occasionally listen after someone forces us to.
One practical question I've learned to ask myself is:
What else could be true?
Maybe they weren't ignoring me.
Maybe they're overwhelmed.
Maybe I misunderstood.
Maybe there's information I don't have.
Maybe this isn't about me at all.
That's an irritatingly effective question.
If I expect the worst, maybe I won't be disappointed.
If I point out everything that can go wrong, maybe I can prevent it.
If I'm skeptical enough, cautious enough, critical enough, and prepared enough, maybe nothing will catch me off guard.
But there's a point where wisdom becomes cynicism.
Wisdom says, "Let's think through what could go wrong and prepare appropriately." Cynicism says, "This probably won't work." Wisdom plans.
Cynicism predicts failure. Wisdom recognizes human weakness.
Cynicism assumes the worst about people. And cynicism can masquerade as maturity because it sounds experienced.
"I've seen this before."
"Trust me."
"You'll learn."
"People always..."
"They never..."
The older I get, the more I realize I don't want experience to make me cynical. I want experience to make me wise.
Those aren't the same thing.
For me, the answer isn't simply, "Be more positive." That's about as useful as telling an anxious person, "Don't worry." We have to actively retrain our thinking. Romans 12:2 talks about being transformed by the renewing of our minds. That means our thought patterns aren't untouchable. They can be challenged. They can be redirected. They can be changed. But it takes work.
You can't change a pattern you refuse to recognize.
Pay attention to your internal commentary for a day.
How quickly do you criticize?
How often do you assume the worst?
How many conversations begin with a complaint?
How often do you point out a problem without offering a solution?
How often do you talk about people rather than to them?
This exercise is horrifying.
You're welcome.
Something can happen once and we can experience it fifty times because we keep replaying it.
We retell the story.
Then we tell someone else.
Then we remember another detail.
Then we create a better response we wish we'd given.
Then we're mad again.
At some point, we're no longer processing what happened. We're practicing resentment. Ephesians 4:31 tells us to put away bitterness, anger, wrath, shouting, slander, and malice, and the next verse tells us what should replace them: kindness, compassion, and forgiveness.
There is a replacement involved. You can't just say, "I'm going to stop being bitter." You have to put something else in its place.
Gratitude is one of the most practical weapons against negativity.
1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "Give thanks in everything."
Not for everything. In everything.
There are circumstances I will never call good. There are losses, injustices, disappointments, and painful situations that aren't something we need to put a happy little bow around. But even in difficult circumstances, I can intentionally look for the faithfulness of God. I can thank Him for people. For provision. For growth. For what He's teaching me. For what didn't go wrong. For prayers He answered that I've already forgotten I prayed.
Gratitude changes what we're looking for. And what we're looking for has an enormous impact on what we see.
If you notice something good about someone, say it. Don't just think it.
Tell them. Celebrate the person who did something well. Thank someone who made your life easier. Tell your spouse what you appreciate. Tell your employee what they're doing right. Tell the volunteer that their contribution mattered. Negative thoughts seem to have no difficulty getting from our brains to our mouths.
Maybe we should give encouragement the same express lane.
Ephesians 4:29 says our words should be used for building others up according to their needs, so that what we say benefits those who hear.
Before speaking, maybe the question isn't only, "Is this true?" Maybe it's also, "Is this useful?"
I said what I said. We become like the voices we surround ourselves with.
That doesn't mean abandoning people who are struggling or refusing to listen when someone needs to process something difficult. Friendship requires that. But there's a difference between processing a difficult situation and establishing a recurring committee dedicated to discussing everything we dislike. If every conversation with someone eventually turns negative, pay attention to that. And perhaps even more importantly, ask yourself whether you are that person for someone else.
Ouch.
Sorry.
Paul again.
This may be the biggest one.
I've discovered that it's much harder to remain venomously irritated with someone while genuinely praying for them. Pray for the person frustrating you. Pray about the situation you don't understand. Pray for wisdom before responding. Pray for God to reveal where your own attitude is wrong. That's the prayer I like least.
Psalm 139:23-24 says:
"Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my concerns. See if there is any offensive way in me; lead me in the everlasting way."
That's a dangerous prayer because God may reveal that the problem isn't entirely "them." Sometimes I'm right about the problem and wrong about my attitude toward it. Both things can be true.
I think this matters.
The goal isn't to become the person walking around saying, "Everything is amazing!" while the building is actively on fire. Healthy positivity isn't ignoring reality. Christians should probably be among the people most capable of looking directly at what is broken because our hope doesn't depend on pretending it isn't broken.
We can acknowledge disappointment and still have hope.
We can identify problems without becoming consumed by them.
We can confront sin without becoming self-righteous.
We can grieve without despairing.
We can say, "This is hard," without deciding, "Everything is terrible."
Our hope isn't optimism.
Our hope is Christ.
That's a much sturdier foundation.
Maybe that's ultimately what I'm learning.
There is a running commentary happening in my mind all day long, and if I don't pay attention to it, that commentary can become increasingly critical, suspicious, irritated, cynical, and negative. And eventually, what's happening internally comes out externally.
Luke 6:45 says, "For the mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart."
Eventually, we leak. So, I'm trying to be more intentional about what's filling my heart and occupying my mind. I'm trying to celebrate wins.
I'm trying to assume the best before assuming the worst. I'm trying to be grateful. I'm trying to address problems without living in them. I'm trying to complain less and pray more. I'm trying to recognize when I'm tired, frustrated, or disappointed before I make those feelings everybody else's problem. And I'm trying to remember that joy is not a personality trait reserved for naturally cheerful people.
For believers, joy is fruit of the Spirit. Which means I don't get to excuse my negativity by saying, "That's just how I am." Maybe that's how I naturally am. But following Jesus is, in large part, about becoming something we aren't naturally. So, yes. Negativity may come naturally. We have to fight it.
The end.
See? I probably could've stopped after the first line.
