Transforming Despair

February 2023
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* Dear Sean.

We discussed engaging with our impulses. I wanted to summarise some of the thoughts we explored. I think doing so will benefit me and you, and perhaps others. Are you happy for me to share this publicly in its current form?

Here I want to explore: despair. In particular, how we may take the impulse to despair and make it obedient to Christ¹ and helpful to ourselves. This came out of our discussion on how to deal with our impulses. These impulses, like despair, can be quite bewildering and overwhelming. One response is to suppress, or try and suppress, these impulses. I call this the Stoic approach. Unfortunately, this approach doesn’t work: the impulses come out in other places or simply refuse to be suppressed. Another approach, the escapist approach, is to drown them out with noise or pleasure. Escape does not work as it only serves to postpone dealing with the impulse or its cause and fills us with noise, heightening our bewilderment. Finally, one can succumb to the impulses, the hedonistic approach. But this fails, particularly when the impulse is unpleasant. Moreover, we are then merely slaves and victims to our impulses driven along by them.

The mindfulness movement has arisen out of the keen need to engage with our impulses constructively. This approach proposes an alternative to these negative responses. Mindfulness offers a passive response. We spend time letting our thoughts and emotions emerge, we observe them, but we do not pass judgement on them, nor do we let them pass judgement on us. This has an immense benefit for calming down and regaining a connection to the present rather than being driven along by inarticulate desires, emotions and impulses.

Is it possible to follow this logic further? To go deeper? Mindfulness takes us from negative to passive, from chaos to calm, from rushing through the garden to sitting in it and enjoying it. Is it possible to become a gardener?² To move from passive to positive? I think it is possible to move from negative, through passive, to positive. This is what we discussed, and I want to write it down.

Each impulse has both truth and lies. In the unmindful state, we are merely driven. In the mindful state, we are aware. But can we embrace? If we discern the truth from lies, we may embrace the truth of our impulses while escaping the destruction wrought by lies. I think embracing the truth in our impulses can lead to a deep life of wisdom, compassion and joy.

To discern truth from lies, we need to know the truth and be wise. We have a glorious truth and a wise One to guide us! We hold, as many great³ thinkers and people before us have held that Jesus is the Image of the Invisible God⁴, in whom all the fullness of God dwells, in whom and through whom and for whom all things were created. So we expect to find guiding truth here. Liberating truth⁵.

We discussed several impulses, and I think this approach applies to all impulses. But this letter would be very long if I tried to look at ’all’ of them. So I started listing some and came to 10! In all these impulses, we may find praise for Jesus the King and his ways. But for this letter, I will discuss only despair.

The three despairs.

There seem to me to be broadly three forms of despair. There is outward despair, personal despair and inward despair. Outward despair emerges when we see the evil in the world around us and despair of goodness. Personal despair emerges from frustrated hope, betrayal and loss. Inward despair emerges when we see the evil in ourselves and give up on ourselves.⁶

Outward despair responds to the world around us. As we look at the world , everything seems fine at first a glance, but we begin to see the cracks with minimal effort. We begin to see, as the prayer goes⁷, the things left undone that ought to be done and the things done that ought not to be done. To see oppression in various forms and at all levels, from economic exploitation to merciless addiction-mongering. Abuse, hatred, injustice. They are not far. We may then seek to see the good, and we may find some, but it is never enough. Charities are underfunded, churches are empty and good people are burned out. Next, we may attempt to do good ourselves, and we may achieve something. But it is never enough, always too small. So we despair. “What good is all the effort?” “The world is just broken and getting worse, and Alas! I can do nought to slow the progress.”

I think this has been a common experience for many throughout the ages. Though, perhaps, it is more prevalent now in our post-optimistic and materialistic age. Moreover, we are now bombarded with major crises (climate disasters, wars, economics, declining mental health, etc.) and with activists who make even the status quo its own crises.⁸ This is all exacerbated by the various forms of media we are subject to.⁹

Inward despair follows a similar pattern to its outward sibling. As we look into ourselves we may initially think we are all right. Yet, it takes minimal effort to conjure up a barrage of regrets and things that could have been better. From there, it is easy to measure ourselves and find ourselves wanting. Not pretty enough, smart enough, fit enough; too slow, too loud, too soft; etc. And to look at our life and see all the ways it is not what we want and find blame in ourselves. We see who we are and where that has led and think it is not good. We look at all our efforts to achieve or be, and all we can see is failure. We might even fail to see any good results from our lives and interactions with others.

This, too, I hear, has been a common experience throughout history. Many, from mystics to presidents, missionaries to kings, have faced acute inward despair. Again this may be worse in our times because of the dominant world views and how these are intensified through our technology. But it is not new.

Thirdly there is personal despair. Until recently, I included this in outward despair. But in writing this letter and talking with friends, I have concluded that it is quite different from the other two. This follows a different pattern. It emerges from frustrated¹⁰ plans, betrayal, pain and loss. We simply live life as best we can, and Bad invades and pillages. Leaving us rent asunder, bewildered, crippled. We stand in the path, letting the blood flow from our bleeding hearts, unable to move, unsure where to go.

This, too, has been common, so common in fact that it has been said that if you have not experienced grief, you just have to wait a little and it will come. It is in no way unique to our age, except that perhaps here in the individualistic, materialistic West, we have forgotten how to engage with personal despair. This despair too may lead us to the other despairs as we try to make sense of it.

Yet I am convinced that all these dark paths may be transformed in Jesus. And that in finding them transformed, we may offer a precious gift to the world. A sweat morsel in the valley of death that it so desperately craves. For all must pass through, and few now remember the way. So let us follow our Lord who has tread the paths of the deep¹¹.

Hope.

Hope has been suggested as an antidote to despair. I think this is true. Hope can contextualise and transform our despair. This is different from “not despairing”, suppressing despair. It is also different from “don’t cry, everything is going to be alright”, simply hoping. This transformation is not just “having hope.” Hope is not anything in itself. Rather the act of hope is the act of “remembering” or “looking forward” to a future.¹²

Hope as an emotion follows from hope as an act. Hope must have substance to have any potency. Moreover, not just any substance will do. It is not the call to Malcolm Reynolds to “have faith, I don’t care in what, just have faith.” No! The detailed and concrete content of our hope will directly shape any transformation of despair.

And what hope we have! There has been much written about our hope in Jesus.¹³ Yet a brief overview will be beneficial. To understand our hope, we must start at the beginning.

In the beginning was God, three persons yet one God, in perfect eternal relationship. One day He decided to create all things, and He did. He brought order out of chaos and abundance out of desolation. That was only the start. He made animate creatures to love and share with. Amongst them, He made us, humanity. He gave us the unique role of being His image and representation on earth. Additionally, He gave us the great dignity of continuing His work of creation and cultivation. And it was very good.

But we sought our own wisdom and independence. We decided to not take part in the Grand Plan and Beautiful Dignity. Instead, we would go at it alone. Our actions broke all our relationships: us with God, us with each other, us with ourselves and us with the rest of creation. And, because of the divine dignity we were given, this fracturing has permeated all things. Moreover, following our own wisdom has led to cascading bad decisions and their consequences right up to the present day and the mess we see around us. It is not good.

But God was malcontent with this state of things, yet He is committed to His creation and unwilling to wipe it out and start again. Instead, He respects the original dignity He gave us. So He has sought to work with people to bring us back into good relationships and true wisdom. Ultimately His goal is to restore us and all things back into an unbroken state of perfect love, unity and prosperity.

This has led to Jesus, Son of God, Son of Man. He came and did what no other has done: He loved God and others perfectly. Finally, He died to defeat death, then was resurrected, proving victory and issuing in a new life. A life where we are drawn back into a close relationship with God Triune, each other and all things. We are drawn in by grace, trusting Him, and joining in His death and resurrection (baptism).

So now we are called to take up our ancient call to love Jesus and love others. We are invited to take part in the restoration of all things, to partner with God Triune in answering the prayer, “May Your kingdom come, and Your will be done on earth as it is done in heaven.” And once all things are restored, we are invited to continue living in the beautiful world, exploring the depths of creativity and love.

Thus, our hope is nothing short of the perfection of all things, including ourselves, forever. Living in the love of God, loving Him back, loving each other and loving the rest of creation through acts of service and creativity.¹⁴

The wisdom of despair.

Given this hope, how do we understand our despair? Firstly we see that all three despairs are a wise¹⁵! When we despair, in some sense, we see the world clearly as God does. This is the first stage of the transformation. We move from despair to lament, and we make this move in the presence of Jesus. We move from isolation into a profound intimacy. We do this by seeing our Lover share our despair. We see His despair and find that our tears are but the smaller versions of His tears.

For outward despair, we see the world as God Triune sees it: broken, without hope and needing divine salvation. We may weep even as John wept: “I wept and wept because no one was worthy to open the scroll [of God’s will.].”¹⁶ Or we may join the LORD who “saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of humans were only evil all the time…and His heart was deeply troubled.”¹⁷ Or we may join the psalmist in exclaiming that “no one is godly anymore, the faithful have vanished from the land!”¹⁸ Or with the prophet, “They have torn down your altars and killed your prophets, and now they are trying to kill me!”¹⁹

So we may lament the world with the LORD. We may step into His lamenting and add our own. We may hear His prayers and pray them. “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!”²⁰ You whom I love, but you are not willing! We may have the outward despair transformed into the very anguish of God. And find our hearts deeply broken and marvelling and the strength of His heart who loves more deeply and sees more clearly²¹ yet raises the sun, each morning in the majestic patience demanded by love: “Just one more day that My beloved may come in.”

Similarly, for inward despair, we may see as Jesus sees us: broken and needing rescue. We may join Him in condemning our evil “the sexually immoral, idolaters, homosexuals, thieves, greedy, drunkards, and swindlers will not enter the Kingdom of God. And that is what some of you were.”²² Or we may despair of any hope saying “and we became worthless.” And we may relish God’s justice and praise Him even as we judge ourselves. But soon we find love, and we may cry Jesus’ tears for us, saying “how I have longed to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks”²³ and have compassion on you²⁴. So we may rightly lament our inadequacies and our failings, and we may do this in the company of Jesus our Lover.

Likewise, for personal despair, we see as Jesus sees: the evilness of evil and the brokenness of all things. We may draw near to Him and feel our tears mingle with His over the death of those near²⁵. Or we may agree with His passion and say “I hate divorce!”²⁶ or equally of betrayal “it would have been better for him not to have been born”²⁷ and “let no one comfort a murderer.”²⁸. So even in loss, we find that we join in feeling Jesus’ feelings.

The wisdom of despair is made complete on the Cross of Jesus. It is here that we find our judgement validated and vindicated. When Jesus went to the Cross, He demonstrated how evil the evil in the world is and how severely broken things are. We may see in the Cross a strong testimony: things are not all right, not just a little out of sorts. No! It will take the death of the pure, and the death of the creator Himself to pay for this evil, to reconcile the broken and bring the parts together.

The freedom of despair.

Yet the transformation of despair takes its second step in the Cross and the empty tomb. In His death on the Cross, we see action taken. The LORD has risen up²⁹, justice is done. Yet if the Cross was the end, we would despair indeed! ³⁰ But the Cross is not the end! Jesus did not stay dead! He rose! The tomb where He was laid is empty; light shines in. Thus we are saved! So our despair loses its sting. It is still dark and sore and scary, but it is no longer hopeless. There is no longer no end to evil, rather now we know that “it is finished.”³¹

Now I do not mean that evil is gone, but rather that despair is transformed to lament. On the Cross and with Jesus, we may face the world and ourselves and weep and wail. And we find assurance that what we see and feel is true. But we are not abandoned unto death. The darkness is not complete. There is an end. All things are being made new. A time has been set when the LORD will put an end to all evil, the earth will be shaken, and only the imperishable will remain.³² Yet the Cross says, even more, we see love! Jesus would rather die Himself than have us die³³.

And so we transition from lament into peace, hope and joy. But I want to pause here. This should not and must not be a “don’t cry, everything is going to be all right.” Instead, the Cross and empty tomb give us the freedom to lament deeply. We may plumb the depths of grief, for we know they are finite. The world cannot. If it dives into this roaring ocean, it knows of no end, it can only be swallowed up in despair. But, we know that even the deepest ocean is established on a rock; that in all places we will find footsteps; paths walked before us. So we may search out all things and find the great Pioneer has walked before us in strength. So we may walk these paths a second time, walking with Him who loves us.

The gifts of despair.

So you will ask, what then is the value of lament if we just end in hope? I think each of the three laments has a different gift to give us. All three start with the intrinsic expression that something is not as it ought to be. This is a hope statement. So each of these three laments gives us new insight into our great hope. Through them, we may gain a more concrete vision and delve deeper into Love.

In outward lament we are considering the ways and structures of the world. We see how it is broken. But in seeing the distortion, we gain a taste, a glimpse of the perfect. If we apply a little creativity and reflection to the thoughts that outward lament surfaces, we may take each concrete idea and envision how this will be untrue in the coming age. These things also help us meditate on the richness of the ways of God. For example, the law says, “Do not murder,” and we should lament its violation! Yet in so doing, we remember the age to come where none will harbour even hatred, so murder will not be a valid thought. Moreover, we look forward to a world where there is no more death, and we praise God, for He commanded us not to murder or even hate. He desires a place of love resulting in safety for all people. Thus our laments may become concrete parts of our hope and knowledge of God.

Moreover, some of the creativity borne through lament may become so concrete as to be acted upon. Like your idea of using media to promote the good. Another good example is the people who lamented the poor education of the lower classes in England. God heard their prayer and called them into intimacy with Himself by answering their cry through them. Look at the result: a fantastic public schooling system available to everyone in this country. It is worth pausing again and noting that our hope enables action. Because we know that it is God who works, and we know that He is and will restore all things, we do not need to achieve anything with our work. It is not up to us to change the world, but we may participate. Again we are set free by our hope when the world is crushed without it. To them, if they fail, it is final. To us, even our failures are counted worthy, for we work with the LORD.

If outward lament enables a vision of society and the world, then inward lament solidifies and clarifies our sanctification. Even while we consider all the ways we have failed or fallen short, we glimpse what we could be and will be. We may add detail to the promise of what it means to be made perfect. For example, as I lament the foolishness of my words and how they bring harm, I begin to see that I will be made wise, with words that bring life in place of death. Moreover, in seeing my own perfection, I admire the character of Christ, who wisely chose each word for each person to draw them into life. So here, my laments teach me who I am and who Jesus is.

Moreover, in the context of hope, our inward lament can offer us a great gift of freedom. Here we find repentance as a gift of freedom³⁴ We know that Jesus wants to make us perfect, and in our lament, we express that we are not. But we need not despair because Jesus calls us to repent: to turn away from what is not and turn towards what will be. To turn from sin and death and turn to life. He promises to work through the Spirit in power to bring us to perfection. So repentance becomes a way to hold onto the promise in concrete terms: “Jesus I acknowledge my destructive words, thank You for forgiveness and I turn away from them. Please bring Your kingdom in my life and teach me to speak healing words.” Now we know that we have died with Christ³⁵ and now we are alive with Him.³⁶ This wells up into concrete action and freedom. We may, in our lives, turn away from sin and do good. Now we do not expect to attain perfection before the Day, but, as Schaeffer puts it: “we expect substantial healing.” This is the same pattern of freedom we experienced with outward lament.

You and I did not discuss personal lament on our walk, and I have thought about it least, though it is important. But perhaps if outward lament teaches us about the world, and inward lament teaches us about ourselves then personal lament teaches us about relationships. Although it is tangled up with the other two. As we lament broken relationships (either through loss or evil) we acknowledge what relationships should be. We may learn to savour the taste of trust or we gain a longing for life everlasting. These concrete expressions of hope draw us near to Jesus who loves, Jesus who is faithful and Jesus who is ever near. Here, though painful, our lament may turn into dependence and intimacy. Out of these flow peace and joy. But I am only scathing the surface here.

The hope spiral of despair.

The final step of lament and hope may be to spiral together. We have seen how, in hope, despair becomes lament. Lament teaches us hope and, through hope, sets us free. Finally, as we hope, our eyes grow accustomed to the light, and we see more clearly. But as we see more clearly, we sense more keenly the desolation of sin. Thus, as the dazzling beauty of God’s ways impresses on us, filling us with joy, we may know more of how utterly sinful sin is. It becomes more abhorrent to us as it becomes less ordinary in the light of our hope. But surely this leads us back to lament? When we see the ways of Jesus as good and the ways of the world as bad, we cry out all the more vehemently “Your kingdom come! Your will be done!” Have mercy and save us! So we begin a new journey deeper and closer to God’s heart again. More filled with love and the resulting peace, hope and joy.

Doxology.

Oh, how wonderful the ways of God! What beauty can compare to them in which all things find beauty? What wisdom can compare to His wisdom which starts in humility? What love is like His love on which all things are founded? Worthy is the Lamb to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honour and glory and praise!³⁷

So, dear friend, let us not cast off our despair but rather take hold of it and bring it under Christ. Because we are free from despair we are free to lament. So, let despair transform into lament and use it to dig deep into our hope. Then through lament and hope we may find intimacy, peace and joy. Leading to a more profound compassion. And in all of this, we walk ever nearer with our Lord and Lover and explore His glory.
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* Your brother in Jesus,

Duncan McDougall