Part 2: The Difference Between Optimism And Faith. Series

THE PATTERN INTERRUPT

Some of us have a problem we don't like to admit. Our faith is actually just optimism wearing a disguise. We feel faithful when the economy is up. We feel trusting when the test results look good. We feel close to God when life cooperates.

But the second the thermometer drops—when the news is bad, when the diagnosis is grim, when the answer doesn't come—our entire faith system crashes. And we realize we were never really trusting God. We were just trusting that things would get better.

And that's not faith. That's optimism. And optimism is a fragile lie that shatters the moment reality gets tough.

Last week we learned that faith begins with honesty. We learned to name our losses completely. The fig tree doesn't bud. The vine has no grapes. Everything has failed. We were honest about the collapse.

But honesty is not enough. Because after we've named the loss, we have to decide what to do next. And that's where something crucial happens.

That's where we have to ask ourselves a question that sounds simple but changes everything: Are we hoping things will get better, or are we trusting in God? Because those are not the same thing. Not even close.

And here's the distinction that will change your life: Optimism is a thermometer it only tells you the temperature of your circumstances. Faith is a thermostat—it changes the climate of your soul.

THE PIVOT FROM COLLAPSE TO CONFIDENCE

Last week we stopped at Habakkuk 3:17. We sat in the wreckage. We named every loss. But Habakkuk doesn't stay there. Listen to what happens next. Verse 18: "Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior."

See that word? Yet. It's one of the most important words in all of Scripture. It's a hinge. It turns the door. On one side of that word is everything broken. On the other side is everything trust. Yet despite what I've just named, despite the loss I've just described, I will rejoice.

Now notice something else. Habakkuk doesn't say, "I will rejoice when the fig tree buds." He doesn't say, "I will be joyful when the fields produce food again." He doesn't say, "Once everything is fixed, then I can celebrate God." That's not what he says at all. He says he will rejoice in the Lord. Not in the circumstances changing. In the Lord himself.

This is the moment where faith separates from optimism. This is where the real work begins. Because what Habakkuk is describing is not positive thinking. It's not wishful thinking. It's something much more powerful and much more subversive. It's defiance dressed up as worship.

THERMOMETER VS. THERMOSTAT

Let me be very clear about something. I'm not against optimism. Optimism is fine. Optimism is natural. But optimism and faith are not the same thing, and we have to know the difference or we'll spend our whole lives disappointed.

Optimism is a thermometer. It reads the temperature. It looks at your circumstances and says, "Okay, here's what I see. The job market is improving. The doctors think the treatment has a good chance. This economy is bouncing back." Optimism is reading what is. It's looking at the external temperature of your situation and declaring a forecast.

There's nothing wrong with that hope. But here's the problem: when the temperature drops when circumstances don't improve, when the doctors deliver bad news, when the market crashes optimism has no power. Optimism dies. It collapses. It can't survive because it's dependent on the thermometer reading the way it hopes.

Faith is a thermostat. A thermostat doesn't just read the temperature. A thermostat changes it. Faith doesn't look at your circumstances and ask, "Will things get better?" Faith looks at your circumstances and asks, "Who is God in this?" And then faith changes you. Faith says, "I don't know what will happen next. The fig tree might never bud again. But I know God. And God doesn't change."

Faith doesn't survive because circumstances improve. Faith survives because it's anchored to a person, not a situation.

WHEN REALITY DELIVERS BAD NEWS

Let me show you what this looks like in a real moment. You're sitting in a doctor's waiting room. The nurse calls your name. The door opens. The doctor comes in.

This moment determines everything. The results are in.

Optimism is sitting next to you. It's been whispering encouraging things the whole time: "The test results will be fine. I have a good feeling about this. Everything's going to be okay." Optimism is a thermometer. It's reading the air, predicting the outcome.

But then something changes. The doctor opens the folder. There's a pause. Just a second too long. You can hear your own heartbeat.

And the news isn't what optimism predicted. It's not fine. It's complicated. It's serious. It requires treatment. It requires time. It requires fear.