This week I wept.
I watched the news for one hour, an oddity for an under-rock-dweller. Our brokenness was blatant. And I was overcome with grief.
“C’mon, let’s sing a hymn,” my husband said as he grabbed his guitar.
But I could not sing. I did not want to sing, not after seeing the turmoil in our country. I just wanted to cry.
What hope is there? Before the question reached my lips, I already knew the answer. So in my tears I do not only cry, but cried out.
There is no hope but you. Lord come quickly.
After my tussle with the media, my thoughts echoed Rev Fisk’s. What is truth? Where do we find it? Who can be trusted? I cried out.
There is no truth but you. Lord come quickly.
In my frustration I lamented to my husband, “How can we respond to all the anger and hate? There is no rational answer that will satisfy irrational people.”
“You’re so right,” he comforted, and then added, “but the problem is that you are irrational too. You have your own idea of utopia. And, if it were reality, that world would be just as broken as the one we have today. There is only one fix for this shattered world, and it comes from a wisdom outside of it. Funny thing is, through our human eyes, that wisdom looks irrational.”
The brokenness of this world will not be solved by any worldly wisdom. The world will never come up with a tactic, technique, or maneuver that could fix this situation, not fully, not outright. Watch the news yourself, and you’ll see that. We may make “progress,” but we will never be finished because this world is broken, and so are we.
Christ has redeemed this ugly, broken world. He became man, suffered, and died—an irrational game plan if I ever heard of one. And yet, the plan was a smashing success. The resurrection proves that. Now, he has plans to put that redeemed world back together his way.
Though sadness for this world may grip me, I know that one day Christ will return. This is faith: We believe though we do not see. We have confidence in what we hope for. And when Jesus returns, we will have no need of faith or hope because we will have him, and his “irrational” plan will be made reality.
So in my mourning, I praised God for the hope that he planted in me at baptism and has nurtured for 25 years. He promised deliverance and I not-so-patiently wait for his return.
And until then, we sing,
The clouds of judgment gather, the time is growing late;
Be sober and be watchful; our Judge is at the gate:
The Judge who comes in mercy, the Judge who comes in might
To put an end to evil and diadem the right.
Arise, O true disciples, let wrong give way to right,
And penitential shadow to Jesus’ blessèd light:
The light that has no evening, that knows no moon or sun,
The light so new and golden, the light that is but one.
Lord come quickly.
Stay in the Light,