There is a shift that happens in my bones when Bruce Hornsby and the Range begin their hit song, “The Way It Is,” with that beautiful, iconic rolling piano riff.
Perhaps it is because this melody is arguably one of the most famous in music history — bridging the careers of a white singer-songwriter reckoning with injustice and one of hip-hop’s greatest prophets, Tupac Shakur.
There is something deeper, though. It might be because this song serves as a profound reminder, and seemingly an account, of the good news that Jesus so radically brought in his earthly ministry.
Jackson Campbell-Walker
The song begins by painting an unpleasant picture of economic and social disparity: Standing in line, marking time / Waiting for the welfare dime / ‘Cause they can’t buy a job.
It continues with the negligence and defeatism we so easily fall into when facing the relentless problems of the world: That’s just the way it is. Some things will never change.
Empire trains us to believe this false narrative of despair — that things are just the way they are, and we ought to believe that wholeheartedly and move on.
The societal blindness encouraged by the empire continues into the song’s second verse, where we see the disconnect between marginalized and those who make the rules: Little boy with a mind of his own / Looks at the man standing around / Says, “Hey old man, how can you stand to think that way?”
Tragically, it is the norm for our society to ignore marginalization and suffering happening right in front of us.
“It is the norm for our society to ignore marginalization and suffering happening right in front of us.”
We ignore the alarm bells of a nearly irreversible environmental crisis because reforming our comfortable, privileged lives feels too inconvenient. We look away when our Black, brown, queer and trans siblings are treated as political objects, legislated against by longtime majorities in our government. We overlook the needs of our neurodivergent siblings and those living with disabilities.
We often do this for our own comfort, for our need to belong when those around us choose hate and bigotry and to maintain a grip on privilege that wouldn’t exist in a truly egalitarian society that embraces human flourishing. But this is such a stark contrast to the way of Jesus.
Born into a rural backwater under the colonized authority of the Roman Empire, Jesus experienced firsthand the sins of empire. He knew the crushing pain of a rigged economic system that values the haves and ignores the have-nots. He witnessed and was subject to state violence aimed at those who disagreed with or threatened the powerful. He lived amid the complicity of the comfortable, elite classes who would much rather enjoy their privilege than share the wealth.
Does this sound familiar at all? With “no place to lay his head,” as Scripture puts it, Jesus knew the only way to bring about the kingdom of God — a holy and egalitarian commonwealth — was for all who saw his vision to begin following him and making change with our hands and feet.
Jesus refused to accept the empire’s baked-in hatred of the marginalized — pulling the unseen and forgotten into full view. His vision for the kingdom of God rejected the actions of the religious aristocrats who used the law to line their pockets, instead of choosing to touch the diseased, eat with the outcasts and offer dignity to the poor without regard to the consequences of his actions.
“God’s heart is nearest to those the empire chooses to ignore.”
The compassion of Jesus in the face of empire naturally exposed the hypocrisy of the elite class and, in doing so, proclaimed God’s heart is nearest to those the empire chooses to ignore. And yet, even when our modern society admits the need for change and attempts to fix clear disparities, we are reminded that institutional reform has limits.
In the third verse of his song, Hornsby addresses the Civil Rights Act: Well, they passed a law in ’64 / To give those who ain’t got a little more / But it only goes so far / ‘Cause the law don’t change another’s mind.
A government can do its diligence to mandate fairness, but no law can force a person to love God and neighbor.
This is precisely why Jesus clashed with so many religious leaders. Many elite folks had perfected the practice of outer compliance — designing the law to fit right living and practice — yet their inward reality was completely empty of God’s grace and mercy.
True justice requires more than a shift in policy. In fact, Jesus taught that the gospel requires an inner transformation from prejudice to grace.
When we look at the reality of poverty and the failure of our institutions to change human hearts, it is not surprising that we become exhausted. But when we shrug our shoulders and accept that “that’s just the way it is,” we surrender ourselves and our marginalized neighbors to a cynical defeatist mindset that acts as an enemy of the gospel.
If we resign ourselves to the status quo, we strip away any last bit of hope and deny the radical and transformative power of God’s grace in the world. Are things really just the way they are? Do some things never change?
Bruce Hornsby and the Range refuse to settle for apathy and failure. In the final part of the chorus, Hornsby proclaims the gospel against the common narrative of despair: Ah, but don’t you believe them.
Jackson Campbell-Walker serves as associate pastor at First Baptist Church of Morehead, Ky.