I haven’t written anything in a long time. Even the few posts I have written this year have been mostly impersonal commentaries on theological ideas. I can’t remember the last time I actually felt each word I wrote. Yes, theology is deeply moving. But it is so easy to write aloft the affections. Often I think it takes God’s work in moving pieces and people in and out of our lives so that we can adequately understand the beliefs to which we hold so dearly. Not that our subjective experiences make the objective any more true; it’s just that, at times, it takes seeing shadows on earth before we can understand realities in the heavens.

For example, redemptive history tells a story on a cosmic level that is told in movies and literature every day on earth. The idea of a hero coming to save those who cannot save themselves is intertwined into almost every form of drama humanity has ever created. It’s no wonder why humans are inclined to write imperfect scripts following the plot of the greatest story ever told. Isn’t that how God has created all things, to reflect himself? Jonathan Edwards saw Christ everywhere he looked. He saw how the rolling hills and changing leaves and setting sun all pointed to something greater. He even saw how sin and death and brokenness pointed toward the reality of ultimate good. I’m learning to follow Edwards in this practice.

Lately I’ve come to realize the simple truth that life is messy. It is imperfect. Things will never slow down. While on earth, there will never come a day when I’m able to say “I’m free of sin’s effects.” None of us have the luxury of passing through life unaffected by sin’s tragic snare. Everyone will face death – that of their own and of loved ones. Everyone will face hardships of some kind. Everyone will be busy and stressed at some point. Everyone will find themselves in a place of questioning and doubt. There will be times when tears flow with ease. We know this through experience. We can expect this to be true because of what Scripture says about sin. Everyone can agree that life is hard. But there’s a difference in knowing – even from experience – and feeling.

My heart is often hardened to much of the world’s sufferings because I’ve never felt it myself. God has, in his great grace, protected me from many of the things that have affected people close to me. Because of this, it is hard to hear about brokenness and truly understand. Even in seeing it, it is hard to “get it” without first feeling it. I think you either have to be broken or be among the broken to truly feel glimpses of what they are going through. More and more I find God opening my world to the hurting world of others. I find myself feeling the effects of sin when I see the mess it’s made in the lives of people I see and meet. Sometimes I wonder if it’s nothing more than God giving me a heart of compassion and empathy as I continue to grow. Maybe it’s just his grace in giving opportunities to build relationships with people that have been open with these things. Whatever the case, it’s been refreshing to actually feel the brokenness around me, however dark that may sound. But I would be foolish to see and feel the brokenness only to stop looking.

We must learn to see sin and brokenness in the perspective they belong as they point to Christ. When we remember the story in which we are a part, we understand that to see and feel sin is to see and feel the purposes of Christ. It is to stare into his eyes on the cross when he became the infinite measure of brokenness. It is to shudder at God’s wrath burning bright against sin. It is to feel the scandalous embrace of God’s gracious plan in saving us despite his hatred for everything we once were. But ultimately, it is to see and feel the hope of the gospel in that all is not lost. The story isn’t ended. The already is still yet to come, and Christ’s resurrection from the cross will soon culminate in a victorious return and purging of all the evil we currently see and feel.

I so long for this future perfection. As I continue to feel the effects of sin around and in me, I long more and more for Christ’s return. But while here, despite the messiness of life, I can have hope. I know that God is working all things together for good (Rom. 8:28), and that I can rejoice in the here and now. I long to be in the presence of God, but I also long to take part in his story of redemption on earth. Like with many things of God, I think the two feelings – while seemingly paradoxical – are friends.  In fact, I think one motivates the other. I’m thankful that God has made it so.