Fair warning up front: I’m going to mess with one of your favorite hymns today. Be prepared.
But first, a story.
As I was writing this lesson, I got a message from a friend whose beloved cat died Thursday. We had been texting back and forth all week about Lima’s decline, but my schedule had not allowed me to go for a visit yet until Saturday night.
Mark Wingfield
Lima was 15 and had a long and beautiful life. But that’s not the point. My friend got Lima as a tiny kitten when his first partner was still alive. The name “Lima” means five in several Southeast Asian languages, and my friend named the cat because he had five spots on his belly and his sibling had six spots.
Lima’s passing was just the latest blow in an awful year for my friend. In April, his second partner — his beloved husband — died suddenly. That death left him stunned and facing hard financial realities that led him to move to a condominium not far from where I live. Throughout this year, my friend’s entire life has been upended. And then his beloved cat fell ill and died in his arms just days before Christmas.
“We sat in his living room next to the Christmas tree decorated with all the ornaments his late husband loved so much.”
We sat in his living room next to the Christmas tree decorated with all the ornaments his late husband loved so much — Christmas was his favorite holiday. The whole house is decorated with the late husband’s favorite things, including a beautiful snow village much like we have at our house handed down from my parents.
As my friend told me the story of Lima’s last days, both our eyes filled with tears. This was the tenderest of moments. And then my friend noticed for the first time the tattoo of three exclamation marks on my right forearm and asked me what they mean.
More tears flowed as I recalled the spinal surgery that happened eight years ago that very day and left me without use of my right arm and hand for months. I explained tearfully how by rights I should be a paraplegic but I am not. And I told him about my famous saying, “You have three exclamation marks for your whole life; use them wisely.” And how I chose to put my lifetime supply of exclamation marks on the spot that hurt so bad on my arm to remind me to be thankful instead of bitter.
Then we cried some more.
Sorrow upon sorrow
When I announced this series on “Upside Down Advent” and laid out the four themes of despair, anxiety, sorrow and feeling unloved, I asked for input on Facebook and in class. And I received quite a few stories — the vast majority about sorrow due to the loss of a loved one. Surely, sorrow at the holidays is the most common way we are upside down. Yet we are surrounded — even bombarded — with calls to be joyful.
“Joy to the world!” and all that stuff.
However, the reality is that Christmas resurrects grief like no other holiday. That makes sense because we have so many Christmas memories tied to friends and family and meals and special activities. When someone is missing from the Christmas dinner table, it’s hard not to think about that.
“Christmas resurrects grief like no other holiday.”
There are probably more helps available for holiday grief than for any other kind of holiday blues. And yet some of them are just not helpful. It’s not just a matter of “you won’t understand until you’ve been there yourself.” Every person’s holiday grief is different. We’ve got to throw away the Christmas cookie cutter.
Is it really well?
Now it’s time for me to ask you to think differently about one of your favorite hymns that’s not a Christmas carol.
In 1870, Horatio Spafford’s only son died of scarlet fever. The next year, 1871, Spafford’s properties in Chicago were destroyed by the Great Fire. Two years later, in 1873, his four daughters, traveling by ship to Europe, drowned when the SS Ville du Havre sank after a collision.
After the sinking, Spafford’s wife, Anna, sent him a telegram: “Saved alone what shall I do?”
Horatio Spafford then boarded a ship to join her. As his ship passed the site of the tragedy, the captain informed him and Spafford, overwhelmed but resolute, wrote the words that became the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul,” one of the most beloved of all Christian hymns.
But wait a minute.
I’ve got some problems with this beloved hymn text. Please hear me out before you pummel me with snowballs.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
“Have you ever thought about the dichotomy of those first two lines?”
Have you ever thought about the dichotomy of those first two lines? I hadn’t until this week. They just go together like peanut butter and jelly. But the two opening lines of this hymn illustrate two opposite situations — times of peace and times of sorrow. This should be jarring to us.
Then the zinger: “Whatever my lot …”
Yes, this echoes the Apostle Paul from Philippians 4:11 — “I have learned whatever state I am in to be content.” And it is a noble goal, although not reality for many of us.
Here’s my beef: The Christian church pushes us to lay aside our sorrows and find peace as quickly as possible. We’ve jammed the two extremes right next to each other in this song like the two parts of an Oreo cookie. Most of us cannot and do not experience them as equal paths to the love of God.
The second verse is no better:
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And hath shed his own blood for my soul
Seems like this verse attempts to pin all our trials and tribulations on Satan. No doubt Satan and Satanic forces are sometimes to blame for the evil we experience in the world, but it’s also true that bad things just happen and that death is a natural part of the cycle of life.
Yes, there is hope for eternity in Jesus’ death and resurrection but that’s jumping way ahead.
And just to put an accent on this, the hymn concludes with this verse:
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul!
“It may be well with your soul that you have eternal security in Jesus, but that cannot negate the sorrow of this present moment.”
Here’s the money line: It may be well with your soul that you have eternal security in Jesus, but that cannot negate the sorrow of this present moment.
‘Sorrow’ in the Bible
Now, here’s your Bible trivia for the week: The word “sorrow” appears in the entire Bible only 38 times and only 10 of those are in the New Testament.
The first New Testament appearance is in Luke 22:45 when Jesus finds his disciples sleeping in the Garden of Gethsemane while he had been praying. Pay close attention to the language, though: “And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow.”
Did you know that last part? We’re so quick to condemn the disciples for sleeping, but Luke tells us they had fallen asleep out of sorrow. Now some of you know exactly what this means. When sorrows like sea billows roll, one of our defense mechanisms is to sleep. This is reassuring to me. The disciples weren’t dolts; they had shut down out of grief.
A literal translation of the Greek here would be: “sleeping from the grief.”
In John 16, Jesus tells the disciples of his impending death and resurrection and says: “You will sorrow but your sorrow will turn into joy.” Then he gives the example of childbirth, when a woman “has sorrow” or distress because her hour has come but then has joy when her child is born.
Jesus is teaching us we cannot know joy without sorrow. So why are we so darn impatient with people living in sorrow. We expect them to turn their frown upside down ASAP.
Remember also the words of Jesus in Matthew 5:4 — “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
In the Old Testament, the word “sorrow” appears most often in the Psalms.
Psalm 31:10 — “For my life is spent with sorrow and my years with sighing; my strength fails because of my iniquity, and my bones waste away.”
Psalm 119:28 — “My soul melts away for sorrow; strengthen me according to your word.”
By contrast, by the way, the word “joy” appears in the Bible 180 times, and 63 of those are in the New Testament. One of those occurrences is in the Nativity story, of course. Matthew tells us (2:10) when the magi saw the star in the East, they “rejoiced with exceedingly great joy.”
Luke tells us (1:44) that Elizabeth’s baby in the womb — to become John the Baptist — leaped for joy when Mary greeted them.
And let’s not forget John 15:11 where Jesus tells the disciples: “These things have I spoken to you that my joy may be in you and your joy may be full.”
Other causes of sorrow
Now, for a quick turn:
While we most often think of sorrow as caused by a death, there are many other causes of sorrow we must not overlook. We may have sorrow because of a lost relationship, a lost job, a lost election, a lost opportunity, a lost hope and so many other reasons.
The despair and anxiety we’ve talked about the last two weeks ride in the same posse as sorrow.
Redeeming sorrow
So, what good can come out of sorrow?
First, sorrow is a natural part of life. If you deny sorrow, you set yourself up for trouble. What we don’t process eventually will process us. This is a pay me now or pay me later situation.
“Sorrow can make us more empathetic people — which actually is a good trait despite what some Calvinist preachers say today.”
Second, sorrow can make us more empathetic people — which actually is a good trait despite what some Calvinist preachers say today.
And third, sorrow can change the world.
Candace Lightner founded Mothers Against Drunk Driving after her 13-year-old daughter, Cari, was killed by a drunk driver in 1980. MADD became a powerful national force for changing laws and attitudes toward impaired driving.
The families of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting victims started several foundations, including Sandy Hook Promise, which works to prevent gun violence through education and policy change.
Judy and Dennis Shepard, parents of Matthew Shepard, started the Matthew Shepard Foundation to teach parents with children who may be questioning their sexuality to love and accept them for who they are and to not throw them away.
James Brady and his wife, Sarah, started Brady: United Against Gun Violence to advocate for gun control and against gun violence after the former White House press secretary was permanently disabled and later died as a result of the Ronald Reagan assassination attempt of 1981.
Chris Bobelis, professor of women’s, gender and sexuality studies at the University of Massachusetts Boston, wrote an article for Aeon that explores why and how some people who have experienced tremendous sorrow turn to activism.
“The accidental activists long for a deeper cultural recognition of loss,” she says. “Through their work, they make their grief legible in a culture that turns away from their pain. As activists, they can grieve out loud. Their activism is a potent means of survival. When others are pressing them to let go, they use their activism to hold on.
“The accidental activists taught me how they hold on in three interrelated ways. First, through their activism, they craft a purpose that gives shape and meaning to their lives. Second, their activism connects them with a supportive community of other bereaved people — a real lifeline. And third, as activists, they continue their role — as parent, sibling, partner — with their dead loved one.
“Their lessons also point us toward a new way of thinking about grief. Grief is not a problem to be solved, but rather an emotional reality that demands acknowledgement.”
“Grief and sorrow can be incredibly powerful motivators.”
Grief and sorrow can be incredibly powerful motivators — to do good, to make change, to be a different person.
One of my dearest friends in the world is heading to in-patient alcohol rehab this Friday. This has been a long time coming, and I am so happy for him I cry when I think about it. Others have tried to get him to turn his life around before, but their pleas have only angered him more. This week, the right people found the right tone and the right time to make a difference.
Here’s what he told me: “They didn’t make me feel like a bad person. I could tell they love me.” I’m more hopeful than ever now.
Here’s the bottom line: Forced joy is no joy at all. We must sit with people in their sorrow and feel their pain. For it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Mark Wingfield serves as executive director and publisher of Baptist News Global.
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