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“Can you feel this? How about this?” the physician asks as he uses a reflex hammer on his patient to test the reactions. If the reactions match in both legs, then the nerves connected to the knees are normal and functioning correctly. All is well. But have you ever wondered what happens when they don’t? What does the doctor do then? A similar assessment is being made of people not in medical offices but in coffee shops, in living rooms, and over the phone. It is not medically trained doctors but concerned friends and pastors who see symptoms that a person is struggling. For some, the struggle reveals itself in uncharacteristic melancholy or the absence of expected laughter. For others, it manifests itself with indifference to those around them or uncommon suspicions at others’ motives. While their knees are functioning correctly, their hearts are not. Something is off. You know it. Maybe even they know it. The question is, What should be done about it?
This is the challenge for many Christians. Justification has been accomplished. A future promised. An inheritance secured. A reunion scheduled. But the wilderness of this life lasts a long time and is not always marked by faith-filled moments when quail is given or water is provided. All Christians today live in the tension of the already and not-yet reality of the pilgrim’s life. Depending on the season or situation, some take that news better than others. The question is, How do we help each other when we are living in seasons marked by sadness, despair, or depression and feel that nothing matters?
First, we need to calibrate our expectations for the Christian life. While the grand truths of forgiveness, imputed righteousness, and adoption captivate our hearts with all the wonder and promise they provide, we are still here, living in this fallen world that is marred by sin and longing for redemption. The Apostle Paul even speaks of creation’s groaning to be restored from its fallen condition (Rom. 8:22). This does not mean that we are to have a callous indifference toward each other’s suffering with nothing more than the words muttered under our breath, “What were you expecting?” It means that we should not be surprised by a fallen world and still know that today is not the final chapter. This will help us not to be disoriented when disappointment tries to camp on our front porch like an unwelcome squatter. The Red Sea has been parted for us, but we have not yet crossed the Jordan River. We are walking through the wilderness of this fallen world as sojourners (1 Peter 2:11).
Second, we must be active in our minds to fight against despair. When Peter addresses Christians who are really going through the wringer, he tells them that they should be “preparing [their] minds for action” (1 Peter 1:13a). Christians typically seek counsel from their pastors on what to do. Friends commonly offer anecdotal insights to each other. But Peter shepherds his people about what to think: “Set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (v. 13b). This is why we cannot let much time pass from what we have experienced in life to what we read in God’s Word. We need our perspective regularly audited before vertigo settles in and we lose our bearings because of hard days. Such conviction and commitment to action do not negate the need to show compassion to each other when we are struggling and suffering. We should demonstrate such love for one another as we weep with those who weep (Rom. 12:15). Yet we should let the “balm of Gilead” for our struggling souls start with the hope found in Christ.
Finally, we must fight against the default that many of us have, which is to withdraw from other Christians around us. Like our first parents in Genesis 3, many of us walk in the wrong direction after sinning. We walk away not only from God and the truth of His Word but also from our “siblings,” our fellow Christians, whom He placed in our lives in our local churches. Commonly, Christians are tempted to believe that no one else can possibly understand their experience and the subsequent temptation in response to it. But this is not what Paul taught the Corinthians. He said, “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man” (1 Cor. 10:13). We are not alone in this life. We have other Christians who can relate and are fighting next to us on the battle line. This is not simply a matter of wisdom, but one of necessity, as Hebrews teaches us to “exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (Heb. 3:13).
“Spring and Fall,” penned by Gerard Manley Hopkins, is said by some to be the saddest poem ever written. Writing to a young child named Margaret, Hopkins notes his observation of the falling of leaves. He compares this to life itself as though to say: “Just wait. It will get worse as you get older.” Is this really what life is like—some inner Eeyore reminding us how sad things are as we go through our days? Do we just try to ignore the occasional Tigger personalities who come bouncing into our days as if they had never seen a bad one yet? Not at all. No one is more aware than God is of how the sin of Adam has corrupted this world and everything in it. Yet God has not left us in a caste system to despair of our lowly state. He offers us not only forgiveness of our sin but also hope in Him that can carry us through our days here. Days that, for many, are marked by “this light momentary affliction” in comparison to “an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17). Let such promises help recover the spiritual circulation in our bodies once again.