Tragedy is a word that seems to sum up this week well. There is the memory of tragedy as we remember the horror of terrorism that occurred in Manhattan with the destruction of the two towers on September 11th, 2001. Last month, our nation experienced another horror in the Minnesota school shooting during mass which claimed the lives of two children. Even this week, we saw the closer tragedy of the assassination of Charlie Kirk this week. These are all horrifying events in and of themselves because they stand as a ready and present reminder that our world is not as neat and tidy as we make it out to be. Simply put, you and I are not in control.
There’s something frightening about that. It robs you of joy. It can make an otherwise beautiful afternoon make you burst with tears. It can lead to panic and anxiety. It can leave you shaken to your core as you sit and think, “Will there ever be peace? Will there always be war? Are people always doomed to violence, death, betrayal, and horror?”
My place in this world is to be a pastor. Pastors are a lot of things these days. Too often they are denigrated to the role of janitor, facilities manager, volunteer coordinator, salesperson, marketing specialist, and the like. But before all that happened, pastors were called to be shepherds of the soul. There is not a soul in this nation right now who is not burdened with the question of the future.
The tragedies that occurred this week are, in many ways, a reminder that whatever we think life ought to be, rarely is it ever that. In fact, even worse than that, the reality of our world is that in a single moment the most precious things of our world can be snatched away from us before we can even take in our next breath. We are powerless.
If you are not a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, then there is a real sense where this powerless reality ought to leave you shaking in your boots. We can attempt to dull our senses with the soma of sex, money, and prestige, but in the end the lie too many believe is that “He who dies with the most toys wins.” We are instead in these moments brought back to reality. Life can be cruel, painful, traumatic, and otherwise abominable. Worst of all it can happen when we least expect it.
So what do we do with that? Anger and rage always seem to emerge with a tinge of sorrow. Expectations of how it ought to be flare against the reality of what life really is. But the reminders we find again and again in Scripture are that our God never ceases to sit on His throne and that He is good. There’s nothing cheap about that. There is no lie in it. The God who is in control and can even turn evil to good reigns.
But the hearts seared by suffering curse that hand which feeds them. There is the temptation to oscillate between a functional atheism (“God is not real!”) and in an instant genuine theism but with the drips of venom (“I HATE YOU!”). This bitterness screams out more like a wounded animal than a vicious enemy.
And yet the most remarkable thing is that though we scream and yell, though we curse into the night, though we feel most abandoned and shriek in rage, God and His promises draw near to us; His love is unrelenting. Like the pounding force of a drum, His promises confront us again and again and again. The unrelenting love of God in Christ confronts our rage and fear. He meets us in the shade of our heart. He stoops down and gives us Himself. He knows about the tragedy and wickedness of this world more than we know. He too was a victim. He too was wronged. He too lived in a politically dangerous and unstable time. He too saw those who should have cared for Him betray Him and lead Him to His cross. Jesus doesn’t come from a lofty ivory tower unmoved by suffering. He is the Suffering Servant! He is the Man of Sorrows. He became those things for us that our tragedy would be swallowed up by His tragedy.
This is in fact the message of the Gospel: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Cor. 15:54-55) Tragedies like the ones we’ve experienced this week, the ones we will experience next week, and the ones we are doomed to experience until death, do not get the last word. The thrill of heaven is not that life is now free from suffering for Christians. But for Christians alone, the suffering we experience and endure in this life cannot have the last word. Why is that? Because that word has been reserved for Christ.
And what will He say on the last day? “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:3-4)
I want you to share in this hope with me. Would you join us as we rejoice in this unshakable, everlasting, indelible hope that God has promised to everyone who believes that Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God? I invite you to experience a taste of this peace and joy, knowing peace and see that the LORD is good.