On Second Thought: Maybe Things Won't Get Better...Not For a Long Time
I wrote this blog post a month ago but delayed posting it...I have no idea why. But after the results of the USA’s 2024 presidential election it feels appropriate to post.
One of the central messages of the gospel is hope. Though, I’ve recently been thinking what does hope mean? One of the messages that is preached and I have most certainly talked about it multiple times on this blog is the idea of a God who not only suffers and advocates for the marginalized and suffering but who actively works to create a more just and equitable world in the here and now. And that God has already defeated forces of injustice and oppression. I talk about that on a frequent basis. I don’t necessarily think that’s not true, and I am pretty sure in a few weeks I’ll have another blog post that says just that in a different way.
But for now, at this exact moment, I can’t help but wonder: well what does the gospel mean, when in fact things don’t get better, and they get worse? One of my least favorite sayings that people say to those who are struggling with mental illness and depression is, “it will get better.” But here’s the reality-that while things do get better for some people, for others, things do not improve or they get categorically worse. And what both larger society and the Church tend to do is they at best ignore these whose suffering knows no end or at worst actively isolate and ostracize them.
The reality is that while I firmly believe that the gospel calls us to work for a better and more just world in the here and now and that doing so, is working with God towards that ultimate purpose which I believe will eventually come to fruitarian, that on the way towards that better world, things will inevitability get worse. And there will be many people who do not get to see a more just and equitable society.
Does the gospel have anything to say for those moments that go beyond, “well just wait and see, things will get better.” Or even worse, “you just need to change your mindset and notice all the good.” I think so. I think in those moments where there is simply pure darkness around, that holding onto the promise of the resurrection is good and helpful, but that for others that will be too intangible and too far away. And in those moments, perhaps the only thing to do is to hold onto the cross.
Growing up in Evangelical culture there was an overemphasis on the cross-particularly on the idea of Jesus’ violent, gruesome death as being necessary and ordained by God so that we could avoid going to hell. That is most definitely not the type of emphasis that I am talking about. But rather, there is hope in focusing on the hopelessness of the cross, especially for the moments where things aren’t getting better.
For me, the cross isn’t a necessity in the sense that God orchestrated a brutal and violent death so that “his” sense of justice or honor is satisfied or because humanity needs to be punished. Instead, the cross is about a God who suffers with us, who becomes subject to the same evil powers and forces of the world, who doesn’t just stay in the sky, watching indifferently but who joins us.
And while yes the resurrection is important, I think it’s worthy to note that for many of us, life will often feel more like a perpetual holy Saturday: the time period after a horrific event, and the day before any sort of redemption. For many of us life feels like a continual cycle of “Good Fridays” and “Holy Saturdays.” Not to discount the Resurrection/Easter Sundays we may have, but I think many of us can admit that those Sundays occur less often than we would like.
And sometimes while in the midst of suffering, the idea that resurrection will occur or that things will get better seems at best like a far-off illusion and at worst like a cruel lie. There are moments where the only option is to confront the cross, confront the misery, confront the death and destruction. And the only tiny bit of hope available is the idea that we do not suffer alone.
The cross not only speaks about a God who joins us in our suffering but who assures us that those who suffer matter. The sheer amount of pain and suffering in this world, means that most people will be suffering anonymously. While the stories of some people will get told and shared-for instance in the true crime community there appears to be only a handful of cases that seem to get repeated-although untold number of people experience the effects of crime on a daily basis. But the majority of the victims aren’t deemed to be worthy of discussion or consideration. Or when it comes to war, a few stories may tug at the heartstrings, but the majority of victims are ignored and forgotten, especially if the one waging or supporting the war is the current face of militaristic imperialism.
But God’s suffering and dying on the cross is a rejection of the way violence has a tendency to erase the victim-not just by killing them physically but by rendering their pain invisible and causing them to be forgotten. The cross was not only a tool of imperial torture and punishment but of disgrace. The bodies of victims were often left to fester and rot, and if they were buried, it was usually anonymously. God didn’t just die but died in a way that for its time connotated shame and disgrace. And by doing so, God is rejecting said shame and disgrace and saying that those who are suffering, (whether the suffering leads to physical death or not) are worthy of being remembered. Their suffering and their lives have meaning.
The reality is that for some people, things will not get better in this lifetime. I think that is an uncomfortable truth that Christians would do well to embrace. But the gospel still has meaning to speak to those moments by reminding us we do not suffer alone and that despite what the larger forces of imperialism, oppression, and violence say: our lives have meaning.
Image: Jesus on the cross. Text: God’s suffering and dying on the cross is a rejection of the way violence has a tendency to erase the victim-not just by killing them physically but by rendering their pain invisible and causing them to be forgotten