All shall be well

I was recently reminded of a video that went around in the first months of the COVID pandemic.

In the video, a children’s music teacher says that she’s found that the best way she can cope with stress and uncertainty is to write a song about it. She starts to play—a ukulele, I think. The tune is sweet and folksy. She’s calm, she smiles gently, she radiates peace and hope. After all, even in difficult times, we can find moments of beauty, we can do the things we love.

Finally, she reaches the point where it’s time to start singing. But she doesn’t sing. Instead, she screams. Loudly.

Recently, I’ve been hearing some sentiments similar to those of the early days of the pandemic. Once again, many people are wrestling with how best to confront fear and an uncertain future.

This is one of those times when it might be a relief to just scream, at least for a moment. To acknowledge in a straightforward way that we don’t have it all figured out.

If you’re feeling anxious and uncertain, you might have found some comfort in the words of today’s psalm.

The psalm gives voice to a profound confidence in God. If you dwell in God’s shelter, the psalmist says, you’ll be able to pray, “You are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust.” And you’ll be able to trust in God’s promise: “There shall no evil happen to you... For he shall give his angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. They shall bear you in their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone.”

Today’s psalm is part of our prayer book’s service of Compline, the prayers at the end of the day, and it’s easy to understand why. The words of the psalm ease anxiety, promise safety and rest.

There’s a wrinkle, though. You might have picked up on it.

The wrinkle is that the words of Psalm 91 show up in another of today’s readings, and this time it’s on the lips of the devil, tempting Jesus in the wilderness.

The “devil took [Jesus] to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’’” And “Jesus answered him, ‘It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’’”

And even without the Gospel’s warning, you might have noticed another problem with the promises of the psalm. What do you do when the words seem like a lie? What do you do when evil does happen to you? When a plague actually does come near your dwelling? When you’re pretty sure that treading upon a lion or adder would be massively unwise?

I have a ceramic sign in my office that says, “All shall be well.” It’s a quotation from Julian of Norwich. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

I believe that’s true. But there’s an unspoken “someday” at the end of the phrase. All shall be well...in God’s time. All shall be well...in the final analysis. All shall be well...eventually. All shall be well...someday.

But maybe not immediately.

You can see that lesson in the reading from Deuteronomy. Moses promises that God’s people will come to a new land, a land flowing with milk and honey. But they are always to remember that they were aliens in Egypt, harshly treated, oppressed, and afflicted. They are always to remember their journey, and their time in the wilderness.

The temptation of Jesus reflects the same truth. Jesus eventually did everything the devil tempted him with. He fed thousands with only a few loaves of bread. He became the one we call “King of kings and Lord of lords.” He rose from death.

But he had to get there by the harder road, the wilderness road. He had to walk the way of the cross. He couldn’t take the easy way out.

The specific temptations Jesus encounters aren’t ones we’re likely to face. We probably won’t be offered vast power or miraculous abilities. But we do face the temptation to take the easy path, the temptation to opt out of the hard things God calls us to do.

I’m not sure I’m offering much to ease anyone’s anxieties.

But one important lesson I take from today’s readings is this: You might find yourself in the wilderness for a while. You might have to do some hard things. But that doesn’t mean that God has abandoned you. God’s people spent forty years in the wilderness, and many more years in captivity, but God never stopped loving them. God never stopped caring for them. Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness, did most of the work of his ministry in poverty, and ended his life in pain. But his life changed everything.

God’s path isn’t always an easy path. But it’s the right path. We can and should trust in God’s shelter and refuge. But God’s shelter doesn’t always take the shape we might wish it to take.

I’d like to end with a prayer written by Thomas Merton. Maybe you know it. It’s a good prayer for times when you’re looking for guidance in the wilderness.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

“And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”