Chapter One of Let It Be Said We’ve Borne It Well
Every time I doubt God’s presence in my life, I remember this: My sister Susan who lives in Los Angeles was about to catch a plane to Houston to attend my ordination service, when she texted me this: I think Bono is on my flight.
Bono is the lead singer of the Irish band, U2. A Christian, he sees his celebrity as currency, one he uses for causes like debt relief and feeding the hungry world-wide. A charismatic front man of a musical act that’s packed arenas for four decades, he’s one of the most famous people in the world. Speaking at the National Prayer Breakfast a few years ago, he crafted a beautiful Gospel message around Matthew 25, quoting what he’s said a number of occasions is his favorite Scripture passage:
As you’ve done it unto the least of these, my brethren, you have done it unto me.
Bono’s short with reddish-brown hair, a thick Irish accent, and is almost invariably wearing trademark rock star sunglasses, usually an outrageously hued pink or purple. He’s also a millionaire many times over. So I texted back my sister.
Greg: Aren’t you on Southwest Airlines?
Susan: Yes. I’m in Boarding Group B. Bono’s in Group A.
Greg: It’s not Bono.
Susan: It’s Bono.
Greg: Get me his autograph.
A few hours later I get another text: It’s a video from the plane. In it, my sister and Bono are talking like old chums. When he got up to go to the bathroom, she apparently followed him, cornering him when he came out. The banter goes on a second more, then this:
Bono: (In strong Irish accent): What’s your brother’s name again?
Susan: Greg.
Bono (to camera): Greg, congratulations on your ordination. God be with you wherever you go. And remember, ‘As you’ve done it unto the least of these my brother, you have done it unto me.’ God bless you.”
I immediately sent the video to my youngest sister, Laura, who lives in Washington. She expressed skepticism. She watched the video and texted back.
Laura: Why would Bono be going to Houston on Southwest? Doesn’t make sense. Really think it was him?
Greg: Looks like Bono. Sounds like Bono. Moves like Bono. Even quoted Bono’s favorite verse. It’s Bono.
Laura: I have my doubts.
We live in a world doused in skepticism and live, especially now, in a season of doubt. Small doubts like— was that really Bono? But also big doubts like— Is this going to get better? Where’s God in all this?
Really, when it comes down to it, the question is not if we’ll doubt. God knows we’ll doubt. The real question is how does God want us to deal with doubt. Here’s what Jesus said to the disciple we know as ‘Doubting Thomas’:
Because you have seen me and at present have me within your range of vision, you have believed, with the result that you are in a state of belief. But spiritually prosperous, are those who, not having seen, yet believe. (Kenneth Wuest’s Expanded Greek Translation)
Christ doesn’t say there’s joy in doubt, but he does say there’s a kind of joy in transcending doubt, and the book of John gives us a hint on how we might do this. It’s peculiarly compelling, isn’t it, that each post-Resurrection appearance Jesus makes in John’s Gospel, focuses on a different human sense.
Mary Magdalene at the tomb, recognizes Jesus, not by sight— she thought he was the gardener when she first laid eyes on him— but by his voice when he called her name. She recognized him by sound. When Jesus first suddenly appears to the disciples in the upper room, the Scripture says, they believed when they saw him. The recognition is focused on their sense of sight. Then, after denying Jesus near a charcoal fire at night, a few days later, the risen Christ appears to Peter, and they share breakfast over another charcoal fire. That is to say, the same scent which infused his betrayal now perfumes the very grace and mercy Jesus offers. The scent is central to the story. Finally, Thomas, (who was not present at the earlier appearances) comes to believe when he lays his hands on and in Christ’s wounds. “My Lord,” he confesses. “And my God.” The sense of touch is what dispels his doubts.
John’s telling us that we discover the Resurrected Jesus with all of our human senses— in the things we hear with our ears, the things we see with our eyes, the scents we smell with our nose, and the things we touch with our hands. It’s also interesting that, even now, the Church remembers the crucified, then risen Christ, just as he instructed, by using our sense of taste, in sharing communion, the Eucharist.
As we’ve worked our way through a brutal calendar of months, and expect continued trials ahead, consider this: when you experience glimpses, these fleeting moments that feel like God-in-the-present- moment in a way that approaches certainty and fortifies your faith with joy, whether by ear, eyes, nose, touch, or by taste, call it out as Thomas did. Let these impressionistic moments address your doubts. In the sound of breaking waves, or the soaring music of Mozart, or even U2, say it: “My Lord and my God.” In the perfect angle of sunlight through the clouds in the late afternoon, call it out again. In the smell of fresh oranges: “My Lord and my God.” In the moment, your child grabs your hand: “My Lord and my God.” In the taste of honey and toasted bread: “My Lord and my God.”
To put it another way, as my brother in Christ, Bono sings in one of his most famous songs, Beautiful Day:
What you don’t know, you feel it somehow.
God— In the moments I feel, through my senses, the beautiful things I believe, but may not completely know, may I receive, then attend, the promised blessing made to those, who may doubt, but nevertheless believe. Amen.