This morning, we awoke to the season’s first measurable snowfall. The sight of it was comforting to me.
Something normal. Right about on schedule. Life goes on.
I’m tired of abnormality. I’m tired of norms – not just political ones, but also moral norms that used to define basic human decency – being tossed aside with contempt. I’m tired of feeling gut-punched by bad news, and I’m tired of trying to remain sensitized to everything that should gall me, instead of becoming numbed by the frequency of tragic events.
In truth, the first snowfall is always a mess. It comes after a few consecutive nights of frost, which means the leaves on my maple trees are falling quickly. They’re under the snow, in the snow, and on top of it. But the comforting thought is, “This happens every year.” And every year, I have enough time to mulch and/or rake the leaves before the winter sets in.
Normalcy is a reminder of cycles. Cycles give us hope. Day always follows night. Winter always gives way to spring.
As I ponder Jesus’ parables about the end of the age, I consider how these stories are usually interpreted as warnings about the end of all cycles – a final reckoning that gives way to one final transition, never to be repeated again. Tribulation and judgment are followed by the fulfillment of God’s kingdom.
While I believe that the universe will have a definable, purposeful end just like its beginning, I also believe there is another layer of meaning in these parables. The early church did not cull together a New Testament until it became unavoidably clear that the Day of the Lord would not come as quickly as they thought. In fact, the first generation of the church interpreted Jesus words, “This generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place,” to mean that EVERYTHING – including Jesus’ bodily return, the final judgment, and the fulfillment of God’s reign – would happen before any of them died.
Then, they started dying – some from natural causes, others as victims of persecution. A whole generation of Jesus’ followers was wiped out, leaving the second generation to ask, “Was Jesus wrong? Was he a charlatan? Or did our parents misunderstand him?”
They went back to the teachings they heard. They made sure they were written down so they wouldn’t be forgotten. And as they studied those sacred words, they discerned that the end of the age is not one sudden moment, but is stretched out over an indefinite period of time, during which many ages come and go. So that means Jesus’ parables are not only about preparing for the last day. They are also about living faithfully when the end of an era brings anxiety, uncertainty, chaos, and even destruction. As people of faith, we do not let ourselves get caught up in the turmoil. We remain steadfast. We keep the faith. We know creation is still unfolding until God’s purposes are accomplished.
As I noted in my reflection on Psalm 46, we are now passing through a transition from one age to another. In many ways, this is painful. The world as we once knew it is passing away. But, as God said through the prophet Isaiah during a similar transition 2500 years ago, “New things I now declare. Before they spring forth, I tell you of them” (Isaiah 42:9). That is, if we are paying attention, staying alert in our faith, we will not only grieve the signs of destruction. We will also notice the signs of hope. We will be able to identify how God is at work, bringing new order out of the current chaos – creating again.
So today, I notice that women around the world are garnering the courage to stand up to powerful men and demand an end to sexual abuse. And, just as importantly, they are being heard. Influential men who were previously immune from recriminations for their personal behavior are now being held to account, whether in the entertainment industry, the media, or in politics. Justice that has been denied to women for centuries is now being brought to bear.
Over the last decade, our own country seems to have gone backwards in race relations. White supremacists don’t even wear hoods anymore. They proudly and publicly march and chant their hateful ideology for all to see and hear. But with the eyes of faith, I recognize – even though I cringe at the pain it causes – that the ascent of “white nationalism” exposes a reality that has been simmering under the surface even as it has been shamed into hiding. The result is more honest conversations about the root causes and systemic results of racism than ever. We are in fact closer to – not farther away from – confronting and healing the original sin of American racism.
I admit that I am less hopeful about the alarming rise in gun violence. In a short period of time we have been heartbroken by three mass murders that have nothing to do with each other: the Las Vegas massacre of country music fans at an outdoor concert, Manhattan bicyclists being mowed down by a religious terrorist driving a truck, and just last Sunday, the slaughter of Christians gathered for worship in a small-town Texas church. Nothing is sacred. No place is “safe.” These mass killings always demand our attention and hog hours of media coverage, but they also mask the greater tragedy that we live in a gun-addicted culture that snuffs out the lives of young and old on a daily basis. The United States of America has the dubious distinction of leading the world in per capita deaths by gun violence. For every million people, thirty people die from gunshot wounds. (The nation with the second highest rate of gun deaths is Switzerland, where only eight of every one million die from gunfire.) American citizens own 46% of the world’s firearms. So of course we are the most violent nation on earth. And still, the politically prevailing answer to all this tragedy is to increase access to guns. In much of America, it is easier to buy a gun than it is to vote.
I’m still watching for signs that this particular aspect of a dying age is giving way to something better. I haven’t seen it yet, but I haven’t given up hope entirely. God is not absent from this struggle.
In God’s creation, one of the cycles of normalcy that is just as dependable as the four seasons of the year is that historical eras come and go. And this cycle is not only a repeating circle that goes nowhere. It is an upward spiral, because through it all, God is pulling creation in the direction of its fulfillment, despite the stubbornness of human beings who want to stop the process and dwell in some mythical golden age that doesn’t really exist.
The snow fell last night, and a bit of grace covered the landscape – just enough to remind us that God is still Creator ... and still creating.
©2017 by J. Mark Lawson
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