The Prophetic Voice of Sorrow
A baby wails, families disintegrate, the cycle of trauma grows like a tumbleweed, suicide rates skyrocket, our children take guns to school to kill other children, deep polarization divides neighbors thickly veiled by elaborate arguments of political correctness, violence is inflicted based on appearance and group affiliation, there is war in Israel-Hamas, uncontrolled fire burns our forests. Evil tears through everything we love: our land, our relationships, our families, our humanity. The untended wound spreads, festering through the earth, making it harder to ignore. It leaves indelible marks on our bodies and leaves our minds reeling with confusion and doubt. Our hearts ache, our bodies are weary, our tears flow like rivers.
If we listen, the wound left behind, has a prophetic voice, declaring that not all is well in the world. The voice weeps, howls, and rages at the suffering and injustice in the world. It speaks truth about the gap between what we are made for and where we find ourselves. It joins the cry of creation groaning for redemption. It is a holy cry: a sacred discontent. We don't generally like prophets and this prophetic voice brings awareness of the agony and grief we would rather not feel. We hate reminders of our imperfections and vulnerability. We don't want to acknowledge the broken and abusive systems covered over with beautiful music and eloquent sermons. We fear the voice that reminds us of the bottomless pit of dark and nonsensical sorrow. We would rather hide the prophets in pits, banish them to the wilderness, and even throw them in lion's dens. In our modern day, we are generally less violent but our tactics have the effect of anesthesia that knocks us out cold, killing our own souls. We numb with countless distractions and addictions. We spiritualize our despair, calling it contentment. We have learned not to hope for anything more because it will cause us more pain. We attempt to skip over crucifixion right into resurrection, forgetting that there can be no resurrection where there is no death.
We settle for masks of happiness rather than the costly joy earned through knowing Jesus, God Immanuel, the God who came to be with us. As it says in Hebrews 12:2: "For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down on the right hand of God." Jesus was so excited to see the rupture repaired, that he willingly endured the cross. The hope and desire was born out of love for his beloved children who he watched bearing the most perverse and vile evil that turned the stomach of Father God. The pain of separation gave birth to redemption. Jesus imagined a world where heaven came to earth. The love of Jesus with the imagination of redemption filled his heart with so much joy that he willingly suffered on our behalf.
The hardest thing about love is that it can never be forced or manipulated. To give someone everything you have: giving up your life, and then watching them reject you and the very life and redemption you bring must be the greatest pain of all. So too, we enter the world with the image of God etched in our flesh and bones, reminding us of who we are meant to be. We listen to the stories in our bodies, passed along by our ancestors. We were created for wholeness, shattered by evil, and we hold the irrational hope for redemption. We long for peace in our cities, love and understanding in our relationships, delight in our families, relief from stress and anxiety, a cure for cancer, and an earth untainted by exploitation and greed. The embrace of hope and love will doubtless bring us more pain, and yet; love loves even when there is no guarantee of return. To listen to the prophetic voice of sorrow brings us back to the heart of God. And so, we join the agonized voice of Ramah and the cry of the prophets weeping over Jerusalem. Our cries bear witness to our sorrow and sharpens our hope and desire for redemption.
And Jesus, seated on the right hand of God, intercedes for us, that we may be one…brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that God loves us and in that love, we are transformed, our wounds are tended, our sorrow witnessed and cared for, and our world begins to reflect heaven on earth: beginning with a small ripple from the smile of a baby, to the delight of an unexpected flower on a mountain, to the kindness of strangers, to authentic and lifegiving relationships. And just like the bitter sorrow points us to our need for redemption, the small tastes of glory we experience are a reflection of the day when we will be complete and whole: relationship fully restored with God and others.