High School Reunions & The Cross
I’m headed to my 20-year high school reunion this weekend. I am not quite sure how I feel about it. I haven’t kept up with anyone except my buddy Dreux, and going was his idea (See you later today, Dreux! Love you buddy!). But just like any big life milestone, not sure if a 20-year reunion fits into that category, this is a good time to take a pause and reflect on life.
I am trying really hard to not be cynical about the whole thing. I really am trying. I really hope the evening isn’t full of everyone trying to one-up each other while posturing ourselves to make our lives look better than they really are. My generation is really the first generation to have been (and is continuing to be) formed by social media. So it is kind of our default to only show the good stuff. But behind the everything is great I can only imagine that for many of us life hasn’t turned out how we thought it would. I can only imagine that over these past 20 years we have all endured wounds of various kinds. I am sure marriages have failed, parents have died, careers have crumbled and even children have been lost.
So, What do we do with that? What do we do with our disappointments? What do we do with the parts of our hearts that have been shattered by the cold harsh realities of life? At one extreme some of us grin and say we are fine and try to ignore reality, never dealing with our wounds. On the other extreme, some of us overshare and make the trauma we have endured our core identity. I don’t think either way is helpful or healthy.
In Christian circles, you often hear responses like, “God uses all things for good” or “God works in mysterious ways.” Sure, I guess so. But what if sometimes he doesn’t? What if sometimes life just sucks? What if the truth is the world is broken and we experience and even add to its brokenness every day?
I guess the older I get the more and more I realize I really am a theologian of the cross rather than a theologian of glory. Wait, what? Let me explain. Some Christians are like spiritual cheerleaders always looking for the next spiritual high. They take verses like, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” and ignore that Paul was writing those words from prison, not his high-rise corner office. Or they quote to a graduating class the words that Jeremiah wrote, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” forgetting that these words were spoken to a people group who were about to experience generations of exile from their homeland for their rebellious hearts. The theologian of glory often expects God to work in the same ways the world works. This means a theologian of glory often turns a blind eye to the brokenness in this world.
A theologian of the cross, however, calls brokenness what it is. A theologian of the cross sees and experiences the brokenness in this world and has learned, really continues to learn each day, how to accept it for what it is. But he or she doesn’t sit there without hope. The theologian of the cross continually lifts his or her gaze to the Crucified Servant who absorbed all the brokenness of the world upon himself. A theologian of the cross doesn’t say, “God will use this for your good” (mind you, he may). No, a theologian of the cross sits with you in your brokenness and says, “Jesus knows what your pain feels like.”
One thing that is so compelling for me about the Christian faith, especially in contrast to our social media-influencer culture, is that we worship a God who seemingly failed. By the end of Jesus’ life on earth, his influence had dwindled to a handful of doubting disciples. What kind of person claims to be God, and to prove so gives up his life? By all worldly measurements Jesus, and therefore God, failed.
I have a feeling that many of my classmates feel the same way about their lives at some level. I know I do. Most of the time I feel like a complete failure and at best I am just faking my way through life.
You may be thinking, wow, thanks for the pep-talk. Well, it’s not all doom and gloom. The reason I find comfort in the cross of Christ is because Jesus actually points my gaze beyond his cross.
Jesus himself redirects my gaze to a future day when he will bring about a once and all victory over the brokenness in this world. Yes, I am a theologian of the cross, but I am also a resurrection preacher. The ultimate hope for the world is resurrection. Jesus promises that a day is coming when he will return to wipe away every tear, right every wrong, and judge all evil once and for all. That is what gives me hope in the midst of my failures in life. That is what gives me hope as I reflect on where I have been, where I currently am, and where I am headed in life.
I am learning to hold the brokenness in this world in my hands before Jesus, knowing he is holding it with me. But I don’t fix my gaze on the brokenness. By his grace, Jesus is teaching me what it means to look beyond the cross and to rest in the hope of the coming day when “all the sad things will be untrue.”
See you soon class of 2003. I hope they have name tags cause it’s been a minute.
Grace and peace ‘til we rise in glory.
