Where I come from the Christian Pessimist is a rare breed, silenced by the sound of a thousand voices crying out “Pardon“, plastered on smiles spread across the faces of the faithful.
It is only in the hidden places that the cracks begin to show. In private, the questions emerge:
Why is the world so dark and full of so much pain?
Why am I still so discontent? I’m unhappy, and I feel guilty for this unhappiness.
I’m trapped in sin, and I am ashamed to admit it. Why do my struggles persist?
I wouldn’t go so far as to say these questions are silenced—the Church is certainly a place that welcomes hardship and pain. Rather, too often Christians treat despair as a means to an end, insisting that pain is merely a stepping stone that leads us to the happiness of the Cross; we assert that dissatisfaction is something that we are drawn out of once we truly follow Christ.
What recourse is there then when we kneel at the foot of the Cross, and find that weakness and want are still our companions?