Pessimism

Bad days. We’ve all had them, and for many of us, it doesn’t take much to send a day spiraling into chaos before breakfast is even over.

According to a new survey, the average American knows their day is going to be bad by 8:36 a.m. Additionally, it’s not just a rare occurrence—four times a month, people expect the worst, adding up to an average of 48 bad days every year.

Mornings, it seems, are critical in setting the tone for the day. The survey highlights that common morning mishaps—such as waking up feeling sick (35%), suffering from poor sleep (31%), or starting the day with a headache (29%)—are among the top indicators of a bad day. Even seemingly minor inconveniences, like misplacing keys (26%) or leaving a phone at home (25%), can derail the entire day.

The impact of these morning disruptions is significant. Nearly half of those surveyed (48%) reported canceling plans or calling in sick after a challenging start to the day, opting to return to bed in hopes of salvaging what remains.

Possible Preaching Angle:
We have all been there, but a Christian doesn’t have to let pessimism or emotions rule their day. Beginning this new year, resolve instead, by faith, to put your day into God’s hands – “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psa. 118:24)

Elevated stress is draining young Americans’ wallets as “doom spending” becomes their go-to coping mechanism.

According to a recent study from Intuit Credit Karma, 60% of Americans are feeling anxious about the state of the world, particularly over the cost of living and inflation. With these concerns taking a toll on mental health, 27% of Americans admit they’re “doom spending” — spending more money despite financial worries. This trend is especially popular among Gen Z (37%) and millennials (39%), with one in four sharing that spending helps them cope with anxiety, stress, and uncertainty.

What’s behind the current spike in this trend? Constant online negativity. More than half of Gen Z (53%) and millennials (49%) say the steady stream of bad news on social media drives them to spend more to relieve stress.

Nearly half (44%) of Americans reported feeling pessimistic about their financial future, and a substantial portion of young people are forgoing savings entirely. This has left many young adults seeing core financial goals, like paying off debt or saving to upgrade their living situation, as far out of reach.

For Christians, financial expert Art Rainer suggests that reprioritizing money is a key place to start:

So, where do we get it wrong? We’re putting our hope for security, our hope for a better future, a hope for a sense of satisfaction and contentment on money. And it gets us into a lot of financial trouble. We get into cycles of discontentment and dissatisfaction. And then of course, we continue to try to get more. And it just never works out. Money in and of itself is not a bad thing. We can use those things for God’s purpose and for His glory.

On the slope of a hill in Camp John Hay, you will find a rather unconventional attraction. Rather than tombs enclosing remains of dead humans, this cemetery is filled with cute tablets with inspiring inscriptions.

The Cemetery of Negativism was established by John Hightower in 1981. At that time he was the commanding general of Camp John Hay, about a 30-minute drive from Baguio City in the Philippines. The cemetery is a symbolic site for burying negativism—emotions, frustrations, attitudes, and thoughts that today we would call “bad vibes.”

At the entrance of the cemetery, a reminder reads, “Negativism is man’s greatest self-imposed infliction, his most limiting factor, his heaviest burden. No more, for here is buried the world’s negativism for all time. Those who rest here have died not in vain—but for you a stern reminder. As you leave this hill remember that the rest of your life. Be More Positive.”

Inscribed on one of the tombs is “Itz not possible. Conceived 11 Nov 1905. Still not Born.” Another tomb says “Why Dident I? Born???? Lived wondering why. Died for no reason.” There are dozens of different shapes and styles adorned with tiny sculptures of animals, flowers, and humans among others. The inscriptions are open to interpretations but the overall theme encourages visitors to open their minds, reflect, and leave the place in a better state than when they came in.

Camp John Hay is a popular tourist destination in Baguio City known for its tranquility, beautiful well-maintained park and gardens, luxurious mountain retreat, and shopping. The camp served as the summer refuge of the Americans from 1900 until 1991 when American bases were turned over to the Philippine government.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The weight of past mistakes can be a heavy burden to bear. Regret and negativity can consume us, leaving us feeling trapped in a cycle of self-blame and shame. However, the Bible offers a message of hope and redemption. Through faith in Jesus, we can experience a transformation of heart and mind. We are given the power to let go of the past and embrace a new life filled with hope and purpose. (Rom. 8:1; Psalm 103:12).

For the past five years, one of the most searched terms on Google has been “hope.” It has outpaced searches for political upheavals, technological breakthroughs, and even the ever-popular “how to make money online.” If Google is the oracle of our collective consciousness, then we’re not just looking for the best oat milk latte near us—we’re looking for something deeper.

But what does it mean? Are people feeling more hopeful or are they…frantically grasping for it? The data doesn’t tell us whether we’re inspired or empty-handed, only that we’re looking….for meaning in a crisis-ridden age

The past few years haven’t exactly been a breeding ground for unbridled optimism. If anything, they’ve felt like a slow-motion apocalypse set to a TikTok soundtrack. Climate anxiety? Check. Economic uncertainty? Check. Social media-fueled existential dread? Triple check. And yet, through it all, people have consistently typed “hope” into a search bar like it was a lifeline.

Historically, searches for spiritual and existential concepts tend to spike in moments of crisis. In 2008, “prayer” surged during the financial collapse. In March 2020, “faith” trended as the world collectively realized we had no idea what we were doing. People look for meaning when the world stops making sense.

But the ongoing years-long trend of searching for hope suggests something different. This isn’t just a reaction to one specific disaster. It’s a constant, underlying hum of uncertainty—a long-term condition rather than a momentary outcry. Right now, the story seems more like…a desire for something bigger, steadier, and more trustworthy than the shifting realities of modern life.

The day after the Trump assassination attempt, The Wall Street Journal ran a story in which they interviewed Americans about the state of our nation. The article concluded, “The weariness was palpable nationwide as The Wall Street Journal spoke with more than four dozen people about how they felt about the shooting that came close to killing a former U.S. president. They pointed fingers and expressed anger, fear, and heartbreak...”

Nearly to person, they expressed a sense of dread, saying there seems to be no good news on the horizon… But unlike other times of crisis, after 9/11 or Sandy Hook or George Floyd, this event left few Americans hopeful that any good might come out of tragedy.

A sixty-three-year-old cook said, “The world has gone to Hades in a handbasket.” A thirty-two-year-old electrician from New Orleans said, “There’s a hole in this country…We’re not sticking together.” A retired project manager said, “We’re in crisis. There is no easy solution, there’s no sound bite. We’ve lost our ability to listen or to hear.”

The article ended by focusing on a married couple in their late 40s from Austin, Texas. “They used to joke about plans to survive a zombie apocalypse,” the authors noted. “Now they talk seriously whether they can afford land outside of a city. A quiet place away from civil unrest.”

Two days after the attempted assassination of former President Trump, The Wall Street Journal ran an article with the following title:

“‘I’m Tired. I’m Done.’ Nation Faces Exhaustion and Division After Trump Assassination Attempt, Americans express dismay about the state of the country: ‘The world has gone to Hades in a handbasket.’”

They spoke to four dozen Americans across the country and gave the following summary:

Nearly to a person, they expressed a sense of dread, saying there seems to be no good news on the horizon. Their list of concerns is endless: The lingering effects of a socially isolating pandemic; violent protests over disagreements about war; three election cycles of increasing polarization; and decades of escalating gun violence. That is not to mention economic turmoil and inflation. And unlike other times of crisis, after 9/11 or Sandy Hook or George Floyd, this event left few Americans hopeful that any good might come out of tragedy.

Towards the end of the article, they quoted Clement Villaseñor a 32-year-old electrical maintenance, who said, “There’s a hole in the country, and this is a part of that. We’re not sticking together,” he said. “There’s so much separation, it makes me feel far apart from people.”

A reporter from The Wall Street Journal spoke to several people about the economy. One was Kristine Funck, a nurse in Ohio, has won steady pay raises, built retirement savings, and owns her home. The other was Alfredo Arguello, who opened a restaurant outside Nashville when the pandemic hit, now owns a second one, and employs close to 50 people.

Economists are noticing that while economic measures are improving, Americans are feeling gloomier. “Unstable” is how Arguello describes it. Said Funck: “Even though I’m OK right now, there’s a sense it could all go away in a second.” There’s a striking disconnect that has puzzled economists and business owners.

But press Americans harder, and the immediate economy emerges as only one factor in the gloomy outlook. Americans feel sour about the economy, many say, because their long-term security feels fragile and vulnerable to wide-ranging social and political threats.

Interviews with Americans across the country—some affluent, some just scraping by; some with advanced degrees and others with blue-collar jobs; some Republican, some Democrat—show they are weighed down by fears of an unpredictable world in which no one in government or business is competent to steer the nation through precarious times.

“You could argue unemployment is 3.7%, but who cares with this level of uncertainty?” said Arguello. “Because that’s what people are feeling. They’re not feeling hope. They’re not feeling one country. They’re feeling a divisive, divided United States of America.”

Doom and gloom over the state and future of humanity is prevalent and pervasive globally. A New York Times piece by Tyler Harper gives an excellent summary and overview over our existential anxieties:

The literary scholar Paul Saint-Amour described the expectation of apocalypse. It is the sense that all history’s catastrophes and geopolitical traumas are leading us to 'the prospect of an even more devastating futurity' — as the quintessential modern attitude. It’s visible everywhere in what has come to be known as the polycrisis.

Climate anxiety ... is driving debates about 'the morality of having kids in a burning, drowning world.' Our public health infrastructure groans under the weight of a lingering pandemic while we are told to expect worse contagions to come. The near coup at OpenAI, which resulted at least in part from a dispute about whether artificial intelligence could soon threaten humanity with extinction, is only the latest example of our ballooning angst about technology overtaking us.

There are serious concerns that the conflicts in the Middle East and Ukraine could spark World War III. Apocalyptic fears feed off the idea that people are inherently violent, self-interested and hierarchical and that survival is a zero-sum war over resources.

What makes an extinction panic a panic is the conviction that humanity is flawed and beyond redemption. That it is destined to die at its own hand, the tragic hero of a terrestrial pageant for whom only one final act is possible. The irony is that this cynicism greases the skids to calamity. After all, why bother fighting for change or survival if you believe that self-destruction is hard-wired into humanity?

Possible Preaching Angle:

This attitude of growing fear and societal decay should not surprise the believer. This is what Paul described in 2 Timothy 3:1-13: “But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days … while evildoers and impostors will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.” But we have hope that we can share with the world (1 Pet. 3:15), Jesus is the “light of the world” (John 8:12).

The Financial Times had a story on a fascinating study showing that our language has been growing more pessimistic. Whereas at the time of the scientific and industrial revolutions there was a shift towards a language with more frequent use of terms related to progress, in recent years there’s been a shift towards words associated with caution, worry, and risk.

The author John Burn-Murdoch writes:

[Researchers] found a marked increase in the use of terms related to progress and innovation starting in the early 17th century. This supports the idea that “a cultural evolution in the attitudes towards the potential of science” [to promote the industrial revolution] and its economic take-off.

[But] extending the same analysis to the present, a striking picture emerges: over the past 60 years the west has begun to shift away from the culture of progress, and towards one of caution, worry and risk-aversion, with economic growth slowing over the same period. The frequency of terms related to progress, improvement, and the future has dropped by about 25 percent since the 1960s, while those related to threats, risks and worries have become several times more common.

A recent Aperture video on YouTube effectively portrays the harms and dangers of today's dating apps, especially Tinder:

Maybe the most disastrous thing about dating apps is that we're ultimately commodifying love and that can change the way we view and experience it. When we're attracted to someone, our brain releases the chemical dopamine as a reward response. Online dating apps train us to constantly seek this dopamine hit from attraction or lust. Then when we're with someone we're no longer getting that attraction. We know it can easily be found on an app in our pocket. All we have to do is ghost, deceive or abruptly break up with someone in order to get it again.

Even just looking at an attractive person on your app will give you a hit of dopamine, making loyalty to a lover much less appealing. You get hooked into a reward cycle. It becomes addictive. Just as you get a blip of joy from a like on social media, you get a hit of dopamine from a match on Tinder. It keeps you coming back even if you have found someone worth keeping.

Most of us have been with someone we loved and still questioned whether there was someone better out there. Apps like Tinder exploit this feeling. They overwhelm you with choices, making you feel like you're never making the right one. And so you move on. Back to the phone. Back to the dopamine hits so readily available. As you go on dates and start relationships the app is always dangling that shinier object or human being right in front of you.

Because it's so fast and easy to get a new shot of dopamine by simply opening the app on our phones, we don't give ourselves enough time to get to know a person. The problem with this is that we aren't spending enough time in relationships for our brains to produce oxytocin over those warm cuddly feelings which are more common in long-term relationships. If you've ever been in a long-term loving relationship, you notice how at peace you feel. How when you're with this person everything feels all right with the world. Dating apps are weaning us off this feeling. Dating apps are more dangerous than you think.

You can watch the video here (timestamp: 6 min. 04 sec. to 8 min. 04 sec.).

The General Social Survey asks people to rate their happiness levels. Between 1990 and 2018 the share of Americans who put themselves in the lowest happiness category increased by more than 50 percent. And that was before the pandemic.

The really bad news is abroad. Each year Gallup surveys roughly 150,000 people in over 140 countries about their emotional lives. Experiences of negative emotions—related to stress, sadness, anger, worry, and physical pain—hit a record high in (2021).

Gallup asks people in this survey to rate their lives on a scale from zero to 10, with zero meaning you’re living your worst possible life and 10 meaning you’re living your best. Sixteen years ago, only 1.6 percent of people worldwide rated their life as a zero. As of (2021), the share of people reporting the worst possible lives has more than quadrupled.

Twent-eight-year-old Abby has been on dating apps for eight years, bouncing between OkCupid, Bumble, Tinder, eHarmony, Match, WooPlus, Coffee Meets Bagel, and Hinge. A committed user, she can easily spend two or more hours a day piling up matches, messaging back and forth, and planning dates with men who seem promising.

But really, she is just over it all: The swiping, the monotonous getting-to-know-you conversations, and the self-doubt that creeps in when one of her matches fizzles. Not a single long-term relationship has blossomed from her efforts.

Other aspects of the experience weigh on her as well. Abby said she has regularly felt pressured to have sex with others. She is not alone: A 2020 Pew Research Center survey found that 37 percent of online daters said someone continued to contact them after they said they weren’t interested, and 35 percent had received unwanted sexually explicit texts or images.

Yet despite all of it — the time, the tedium, and the safety concerns — Abby feels compelled to keep scrolling, driven by a mix of optimism and the fear that if she logs off, she’ll miss her shot at meeting someone amazing.

“I just feel burned out,” said Abby. “It really is almost like this part-time job.”

During COVID-19, New York City residents started moving into the country. The 13,000-plus member Facebook group “Into the Unknown” unites people “who have decided or are considering to join the exodus from NYC to greener pastures.” But the grass has not been greener on the other side of the fence. According to one report, “City dwellers, who retreated to rural areas in the pandemic, now see drawbacks, from pests and social isolation to the difficulty of finding day care and health care.”

For instance, Tara Silberberg, 53, moved from Brooklyn to the Hudson Valley and was knocked back by the feeling of alienation. Born in New York, in May 2020 Ms. Silberberg and her husband left the city and moved to the small rural town of Gallatin, New York. She told reporters, “I was not quite prepared for how lonely it was going to be, and I’m very social.” In the first year of her family’s Massachusetts sojourn, the 1930s gravity-fed water system broke “and nobody knew how to fix it and we didn’t have water for a year,” she recalled. “I understood that the country doesn’t mean it’s always picking daisies.”

No wonder, then, that many of these rural dwellers pulled up stakes once again and returned to the city—or are hoping to do so. But that may pose some new problems because New York’s real estate market is once again booming.

American physicist and author Alan Lightman is a professor at MIT. He contemplates the day of his daughter’s wedding:

It was a perfect picture of utter joy, and utter tragedy. Because I wanted my daughter back as she was at age ten, or twenty. As we moved together toward that lovely arch, other scenes flashed through my mind: my daughter in first grade holding a starfish as big as herself, her smile missing a tooth … now she was thirty. I could see lines in her face.

Lightman confesses he has a hard time accepting that for him and his daughter and everything else, it all ends in nothingness:

Despite all the richness of the physical world — the majestic architecture of atoms, the rhythm of the tides, the luminescence of the galaxies — nature is missing something even more exquisite and grand. Some immortal substance, which lies hidden from view. Such exquisite stuff could not be made from matter, because all matter is slave to the second law of thermodynamics.

Perhaps this immortal thing that we wish for exists beyond time and space. Perhaps it is God. I cannot believe that nature could be so amiss. In my continual cravings for eternal youth and constancy, I am being sentimental. Perhaps I could accept the fact that in a few short years, my atoms will be scattered in wind and soil, my mind and thoughts gone, my “I-ness” dissolved in an infinite cavern of nothingness. But I cannot accept that fate even though I believe it to be true. I cannot force my mind to go to that dark place.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Such is the hopelessness of those without Christ (Eph. 2:12), but compare it to the hope of eternal life for the believer—“In the hope of eternal life, which God, who does not lie, promised before the beginning of time” (Titus 1:2).

Eighty-three-year-old actor Anthony Hopkins won the Oscar for Best Actor at the 2021 Academy Awards. In an interview soon after, he was asked about being happy:

The irredeemable past—we can never go back. The sadness of life is that we go on—we're born in this world, and at the end we leave, and you think, ‘What was that all about?' My life ... at the end of it all, I don't know what is … what's it all about? Is there meaning in it? So what makes me really happy is—what makes me free—is the feeling that nothing is of that much importance. We're pretty insignificant little dots in our vast universe.

Life is important only because we choose to make it so. And that's the freedom I have. Free from worrying about this, that and the other. You know, being significant, all that stuff. But there's finally nothing to prove, nothing to win, nothing to lose, no sweat, no big deal. And that's my philosophy. Ask nothing, expect nothing and accept everything. That's it.

He told a struggling young actor: “Enjoy it. Just do it. You can either do it or you can't. If you can't, it doesn't matter. Who cares, finally, in the end?”

Hopkins enjoys happiness in life’s meaninglessness:

That's to me happiness: to acknowledge that I know nothing. I'm insignificant. It's all meaningless to me. And it's a bit of fun to have a little bit of acclaim and be successful or achieve things—it's fine. ... Enjoy it while it lasts. We know nothing. And that comes back to me. I know nothing. I don't know anything.

In a recent Bloomberg Business article, Mark Ellwood confronts what he calls the "cult of positivity.” He titled his article “Trying to Stay Optimistic Is Doing More Harm Than Good.” The push to be upbeat in the workplace, as well as at home, has resulted in an experience he calls FONO. That's the fear of negative outlook:

You see it on Instagram, where the affective filter is always upbeat, usually followed by the hashtag #blessed. You might even recognize it in the boss who insists that colleagues start every Zoom meeting by sharing a piece of good news to help keep moods buoyant amid the gloom.

Think of this mindset as one that responds to all human anxiety with uncompromising optimism. It can be found in sentences that start with those negating words “At least,” which are followed by a suggestion that however bad you’re feeling, at least you’ve got plenty else that should offset it.

Ellwood explains the origin of this cult:

For the current generation, the origins of this emotional cure-all lie in the 1990s, when Martin Seligman, president of the American Psychological Association, suggested that pessimism is a learned behavior. Therefore, it both could and should be avoided.

That observation snowballed into bestsellers such as Rhonda Byrne’s, The Secret. It was popularized after Oprah Winfrey championed its ethos. That breakout bunkum bible was essentially built on claims that the power of positive thinking would provide whatever you want, be it a baby or a Mercedes-Benz.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The Bible alone is supremely honest and realistic. God tells us that we will have negative, sometimes devastating, experiences in life (John 16:33). However, Scripture also promises that nothing can separate us from the love of God (Rom. 8:38), that trouble refines us spiritually (2 Cor. 7:10; 1 Pet. 1:7), and that God works all things together for our good (Rom. 8:28).

Did you know that cats can’t taste the flavor of sweetness? That’s right. Felines cannot taste sweet. It’s like their tongues are color blind to sugar. No wonder cats are so grumpy all the time! They can taste sour, bitter, saltiness, and meatiness, but not sweetness.

Are you a cat? Maybe you should get a dog in your life. Maybe when dogs are barking at cats, they’re just trying to cheer them up! If you’re a dog, use your bark to cheer up a cat. And if you’re a cat who struggles to taste the sweetness of life, find a dog to be your friend. I know dogs can be really annoying but they’re good for your soul.

Possible Preaching Angles:

A humorous way to encourage people who are down.

In an interview with Rolling Stone, singer-songwriter-guitarist J. Tillman (now known as "Father John Misty") was asked: "You were raised in an evangelical Christian household. How did that affect you?"

Misty responded, "I remember asking my Sunday-school teacher who made God. It was the first time I ever saw someone's eyes glaze over and robotically recite something. She said, 'God's always been.' For the Western world, enlightenment is having an airtight answer to a question. That to me is the quickest way to make yourself absurd. I think certainty is completely grotesque."

Misty was then asked: Was there anything valuable about your evangelical upbringing? Misty replied, "I was promised redemption and forgiveness and salvation over and over, but it never manifested in any meaningful way. It was like Charlie Brown and Lucy with the football. There's something about my writing that keeps looking to that problem."

A scan through the statements of President Abraham Lincoln reveals a man who underwent some very dark days. Consider, at the start of the War Between the States, Lincoln was resolute and visionary. "The mystic chords of memory," he announced in his inaugural address on March 4, 1861, "stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union." A little over a year into the war, on June 28, 1862, his rhetoric was tempered but still firm and uncompromising: "I expect to maintain this contest until successful, or till I die, or am conquered."

And then the true darkness began to fall. After a devastating defeat at Manassas in Virginia, Lincoln began first to worry, and then to doubt his cause: "Well, we are whipped again, I am afraid," he moaned. "What shall we do? The bottom is out of the tub, the bottom is out of the tub!" (August 1862). The next months and years for Lincoln were lived in near-constant, faith-shaking darkness and despair: "If there is a worse place than Hell, I am in it" (December1862, after defeat at Fredericksburg). "My God! My God! What will the country say?" (May 1863, after defeat at Chancellorsville). "This war is eating my life out. I have a strong impression that I shall not live to see the end" (1864).

And then, in the darkness a flicker of hope burst into flame. Union victories began turning the tide of the Civil War, and we can see Lincoln's spirits lift. Once again his rhetoric begins to soar, to reach resolutely toward his vision of one United States of America. In March 1865, about a month before Lee's surrender, Lincoln is able to regather his faith and speak, "With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right [as God gives], let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds … " (Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865). And finally, less than two weeks before his death, President Lincoln proclaimed the end of his trials: "Thank God I have lived to see this. It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone" (April 3, 1865).

An article on Esquire magazine begins with this quote in bold capital letters:

WE THE PEOPLE ARE PISSED. THE BODY POLITIC IS BURNING UP. AND THE ANGER THAT COURSES THROUGH OUR HEADLINES AND NEWS FEEDS—ABOUT INJUSTICE AND INEQUALITY, ABOUT MARGINALIZATION AND DISENFRANCHISEMENT, ABOUT WHAT THEY ARE DOING TO US—SHOWS NO SIGN OF ABATING. ESQUIRE TEAMED UP WITH NBC NEWS TO SURVEY 3,000 AMERICANS ABOUT WHO'S ANGRIEST, WHAT'S MAKING THEM ANGRY, AND WHO'S TO BLAME.

Here's one of the most interesting statistics: "Half of all Americans are angrier today than they were a year ago." And white Americans are the angriest of them all. Here is a summary of how they see life, "From their views on the state of the American dream (dead) and America's role in the world (not what it used to be) to how their life is working out for them (not quite what they'd had in mind), a plurality of whites tends to view life through a veil of disappointment."

The first question in the survey is "About how often do you hear or read something in the news that makes you angry?" The top three responses are: 37 percent once a day, 31 percent a few times a day, and 20 percent once a week. In total, about 88 percent of all Americans are angry at least once a week.