The Beast of Grief

By Ife J. Ibitayo

Over a year has passed since my last article, so much life has come and gone between then and now. 2025 was filled with laughter and joy. I started a new job, began a new romantic relationship, and celebrated my mom’s 60th birthday. I never would have believed that less than 365 days later, the company I worked for would be acquired, the woman I believed would become my fiancé would become my ex, and my father would be diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

Parasite

Grief is a parasite. It wormed its way deep into my heart and attempted to incubate its bitter offspring in my chest: Hopelessness, despair, and depression. It stole the air from my lungs, robbed the words from my lips, and stopped the ink from my pen. Already, I wonder if I have anything left to say, for countless unanswerable questions assail my brain:

 Am I grieving well enough? Is there a way to grieve well? Have I moved on from love lost too quickly, or am I taking too long? Have I called home enough, cared enough, prayed enough for my dying father? Is it ever enough? Will I ever be enough?

Like a thousand stinging wasps, these thoughts thrash within the synapses of my mind. They’re a Molotov cocktail desperate to set my life ablaze. Many times I’ve fantasized about punching the frigid winter mural that looms over my bedside table. I’d watch the glass tinkle on the ground, clutch my hand as blood dripped down my fingers, and finally have a physical distraction from my psychic agony. But I’m a writer, not a fighter, so I’m spewing half-edited words on my blog—my Munchian Scream into the void.

Easter

I started writing this article on Easter Monday, and I was reminded of my pastor’s words from Sunday. He thundered from the pulpit about an empty grave because of resurrection power flowing through dead veins. “Sickness doesn’t have the final say!” he roared. “Death doesn’t have the final word!” I believe these statements to be true, but sometimes, in the dead of night as I lie awake for yet another sleepless hour, I wonder why death gets to speak so loud and so often.

I’ve wondered about God’s role in this tragedy. I wouldn’t say God is distant; I sense Him nearby. But He’s far too quiet. The biblical figure Job—who suffered terribly in the Lord’s hands—once called Him the great watcher of mankind, lurking in the background, eyeing our every step (Job 7:20). Sometimes worse than God’s distance is His seeming indolence. What is He doing up there as the months drain away the vitality from my dad’s spirit?

But just like the weeping prophet Jeremiah, “I call this to mind; therefore, I have hope” (Lamentations 3:11). The risen Jesus is the Son who pierces through my dark sky. He lifts my soul and softens my mind to the possibility that God could very well be at work behind the scenes. My family’s vexation will end in victory. The gory details of cancer will give way to glory.

Conclusion

No one handles the beast of grief perfectly. It’s like a massive python squeezing the life out of every sinew. It’s an alligator locking you in its death roll. If you try to wrestle it head-on, your muscles will tear, and your bones will snap. Instead, you have to roll with it, let it dunk your head underneath the torrent of sorrow before grace lifts you up to gulp a sweet breath of life again. You have to feel every feeling and cry every tear. Then, you must remember to look to God, even as you weep, and tell Him that Jesus is enough.

“The people who sat (dwelt enveloped) in darkness have seen a great Light, and for those who sat in the land and shadow of death Light has dawned.”

(Matthew 4:16)

“Though He slay me, I will hope in Him.”

(Job 13:15a)

A Phoenix of Hope

By Ife J. Ibitayo

A blazing inferno has enveloped the city of Los Angeles since the start of this year. I had to stand by as flames consumed the homes of friends I love, landmarks I’ve visited, and trails I’ve hiked. With the fire finally contained earlier this week, it’s safe to say that people are beginning to shift their focus from “When is this going to end?” to “Why did this happen to us?”

Fire Judges

Internet gremlins and holy Facebook warriors have scrambled out of the woodwork to declare this an act of God’s judgment. Statements such as, “California is already hell on earth; now it has the fire to go with it,” or “America’s Sodom and Gomorrah has finally been baptized by fire” litter social media pages like so much trash on the I-405. But as someone who lives in the heart of Los Angeles, I’ve seen a very different force at work through the flames that decimated our city.

Fire Refines

The Scripture says, “The crucible is for silver, and the furnace is for gold, and the Lord tests hearts” (Proverbs 17:3). Fire has a way of burning away dross and revealing what truly lies beneath.

In a Hollywood Prayer Network worship service a few days after the first fire broke out, I watched believers from across the city unite to grieve our losses and support our city. Through serving with the Salvation Army, I witnessed thousands of volunteers mobilize as the heart and hands of God to a hurt and broken city. And through relief funds and generation donations, I’ve seen that money doesn’t just flow into LA to finance movies and startups but also to provide resources to those who need them the most.

Through the crucible of the LA fires, I’ve been stunned to discover that under the glitter of LA’s bright lights, there truly exists some beautiful gold.

Fire Renews

I was reminded of some facts I learned long ago about forest fires during a prayer call a couple of weeks ago. 1. “where the ground has a deep accumulation of branches and litter, fires reduce this debris and supply nutrients to the soil.” 2. “There are many tree types here in California that require fire in order for their seeds to germinate.”

These two truths synthesize some of the miracles blossoming here in Los Angeles. Firstly, spurned on by the fire of necessity, a diverse set of organizations—both secular and spiritual—are banding together to serve the most vulnerable in our community. The old detritus of petty rivalries are being burnt away so that the twin beams of grace and mercy can be let in. Secondly, I believe that the seeds of new growth have already been planted, both for a revitalized city and a renewed faith.

Conclusion

So as these fires die down and the work of rebuilding ramps up, we don’t grieve as those who have no hope. Out of the ashes of these wildfires, I can already envision a phoenix of hope arising that will touch our city, our country, and perhaps our entire planet.  

“So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold–though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.”

(1 Peter 1:6-7)

Out of the Wilderness of 2024

By Ife J. Ibitayo

I flew back to Los Angeles just in time for New Year’s. I’d expected my week to be a fun-filled opportunity to celebrate the coming of 2025. Instead, it was eerily quiet. Los Angeles empties out in December with flocks of transplants flying home for the holidays. As I drove through the deserted streets of Los Angeles on New Year’s Eve, 2025 seemed to approach with barely a whisper, as if it was stuck under the thumb of a 2024 that was determined to overstay its welcome.

Or maybe that impression was just a reflection of my own heart. As others rang in new opportunities, I stared at the same old losses. 2024 was the year I lost my company, my health, and my confidence. As I grappled with how to reframe my last year and look forward to the next, the story of Moses came to mind.

Into the Wilderness

When I think of Moses, the images that come to my mind are the man who defeated Pharaoh, parted the Red Sea, and led the Israelites to the edge of the Promised Land. But Moses’s journey did not begin with leadership and victory but murder and retreat.

Moses grew up in the lavish splendor of Pharaoh’s household, while the rest of the Israelites lived under the Egyptians’ thumb in harsh slavery. But after several years, the sight of one of Moses’ brethren being abused by an Egyptian taskmaster triggered his indignation, and he could no longer turn a blind eye to their suffering. That same day he assassinated the Egyptian and literally buried the evidence (Exodus 2:11-12). But his actions earned him no goodwill with his blood family and destroyed his relationship with his adopted father. With nowhere left to turn, Moses fled into the wilderness.

Where is the Wilderness?

The wilderness is the place many of us will find ourselves after we make a mistake. It is the place we flee to when we’ve lost our sense of identity, which in Moses’ case was his status as son of the Egyptian king. This truth is exemplified by Moses naming his first son Gershom—meaning foreigner in Hebrew—and lamenting that he was a “foreigner in a foreign land” (Exodus 2:22).

The wilderness takes many forms. It can be a new environment—such as a new city, company, or commitment—that robs us of our sense of competence. Or it can be a new difficulty in the same place, like an unexpected bill or illness. The common thread is that the wilderness destabilizes us and reveals the core of the identity that we’ve built up over the years.

How Long Will We Remain in the Wilderness?

Secondly, the wilderness tends to be a place that we remain in for a while—a long, long while. Returning to Moses, he tended sheep for forty years in the wilderness. He got married and had children in the wilderness. He thought he was going to die in the wilderness.

One important reason why the wilderness tends to linger is that it is most frequently where God develops our character, and character takes a significant amount of time to inculcate.

Joseph was a slave in Egypt for thirteen years before he finally became prime minister. David was an outlaw for over a decade before he became king. God’s slow and steady work on our hearts is usually measured over the course of years rather than weeks.

What Will Bring Us Out of the Wilderness?

The last and probably most peculiar aspect of the wilderness is that God never intends for it to be a dead end but always a fresh start. It was in the wilderness that God appeared to Moses in a burning bush and commanded him to set the Israelites free.

Moses replied, “Who am I that should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt” (Exodus 3:11)? He responded this way because he believed that his journey was already over. The die had been cast. The race had already been forfeited. And nothing else remained except to let the ravaging desert wind take its course on his dying body.

But God said, “I will be with you” (Exodus 3:12). Having deconstructed his identity and reforged his character, God was now ready to empower Moses to accomplish the impossible. The goal that Moses had attempted to accomplish forty years ago was now in reach. But it required one final act—saying, “Yes.”

Conclusion

2024 may have been your wilderness. It may have been the year you hit rock bottom, then the floor gave out. It may have been where you reached the end of yourself. But where our strength fails is where God’s begins. God has a plan for each and every one of us in 2025, but we too must be willing to say, “Yes.”

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

(Isaiah 43:19)

Small Beginnings

By Ife J. Ibitayo

Christmas is less than one week away. It’s the holiday that more than two billion people circle in red ink on their calendars each year. In fact, it redefined our entire calendar system. Yet the prophesied Messiah—the ultimate chosen one—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords didn’t shuttle down to earth amongst flaming chariots and cherubic trumpet blasts. He wasn’t born to royalty or reared in a place. Rather, he was conceived in a stable, visited by shepherds, and raised in obscurity. Three long decades passed before He began His short ministry. And centuries followed before Christianity graduated from being a fringe sect of the Roman Empire to its foundational faith. Only a select few knew the promise of the baby lying in a feeding trough that fateful Christmas night.

Small Seeds, Enormous Trees

This pattern is not relegated to Jesus’ birth; it’s a core element of God’s kingdom. During the middle of His earthly ministry, Jesus said “the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches” (Matthew 13:31, 32).

To illustrate this point, I’d like to share a story: In the early 1900s, a medical missionary named William Leslie lived and worked amongst the tribes in a remote corner of the Democratic Republic of Congo. After nearly twenty years of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, he had a falling out with some of the tribal leaders and was asked never to return. He returned to the United States and died less than a decade later believing he’d never made a significant impact among the Congolese people.

However, a century later, a group of American missionaries traveled to that same region and found a network of faithful, reproducing churches that traced their origins to Leslie’s time there. Thousands came to faith because of the faithfulness of this one man.

So too in our own lives, God may have given us a seed to nurture. The class we teach, the small business we operate, or the single child we rear, may seem like a calling too insignificant to matter in the long run. But God says, “‘Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin,” (Zechariah 4:10a). He is the God of small beginnings, and He enjoys transforming our small seeds into enormous trees.

Conclusion

The wonder of Christmas is not simply that God came down to earth. He’s done so many times throughout history, and His people shuddered in fear (Hebrews 12:18-21). Rather, it’s that God chose to come down in smallness, as a baby, in a manger born to a disgraced teenage girl and a poor carpenter. And from that lowly starting point, our world was changed forever.

“The angel answered [Mary], ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”

(Luke 1:35-37)

Siren Songs and Healing Balm

By Ife J. Ibitayo

I never thought that an episode of the hit comedy Brooklyn 99 would leave me emotional. The precinct’s new police captain was a little too perfect, so the officers did everything in their power to find out what was really going on with this interloper. But in the end, all their meddling served to do was alienate the only good captain they’d ever had. That storyline hit a little too close to home for me. Have you ever pushed away a good friend or girlfriend? Have you ever committed an irreversible mistake that still haunts you till today? I have.

As I’ve quoted so often in this blog, “to err is human.” To be a member of mankind is to make mistakes, but to live with the consequences feels so inhumane. There were whole months earlier this year when I woke up every day wishing for a redo button, a groundhog day switch, that’d allow me to undo all of my poor choices. Before I knew it, I’d sunk deep into the dark tendrils of regret and bitterness.

The Siren Song of Regret and Bitterness

Why is the sorrowful siren song of regret so alluring? Because regret is a time travel tonic; sipping on it enables you to teleport yourself back to yesterday and rustle through its shattered remains looking for answers. With 20-20 hindsight you can see the better actions you could have taken and the superior words you could have spoken. You can leverage your present self to beat down your former self.

The second sickly sweet serenade comes from bitterness. Instead of internalizing blame, we unleash it on others. We blame our parents for the way they raised us (or failed to do so). We blame our life circumstances for dealing us an unfair hand. Or we blame God because with His sovereignty and divine purview, surely He is responsible for all we’ve gone through.

These two powerful emotions can shackle us to our past, rob us of our joy, and steal our destiny. But is there a third option? Is there a way to rise above the regret and bitterness of yesterday?

The Balm of Forgiveness

I think the answer begins with the balm of forgiveness. The healing power of forgiveness lies in letting go. Regret stems from holding on to unforgiveness against ourselves and bitterness springs from holding on to unforgiveness against others (including God).

However, Scripture says, “If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Forgiving ourselves means believing that we are not the same person we once were and that it’s okay to not have been the person we needed to be back then. Just as our bodily flesh replaces itself every single month, our spirit man regenerates on a day-to-day basis (2 Corinthians 4:16). And we can’t hold our past self captive to our present self’s capabilities.

Forgiving others is based on a similar principle. By maximizing grace toward others, we minimize the pain we carry in ourselves. I’ve had others threaten my friendships, my future, and even my very life, but only later have I come to know the demons they were wrestling within as they lashed out at me (Titus 3:3-6). If we judge others by our best while looking at their worst, it’s all too easy to condemn them. But considering others at their best and forgiving their worst has a way of healing our own pain over time.

The Peace of Wrestling

Lastly, there’s forgiving God, which is a strange, unseemly concept for most of us. But I believe that we can carry past hurts against God that we never deal with because we conclude that either God can’t really be who He says He is (perfect, powerful, and present) or we must be so far gone that He chose not to show us the trifecta of His loving character. But God says, “Come, let us reason together” (Isaiah 1:18). The word translated “reason” in Hebrew is “yakach” and it means to “argue for the sake of bringing someone to a point of understanding.”

When God upsets us, He actually wants us to let Him know. He wants us to argue with Him and confront Him, to express the yucky feelings that we feel shouldn’t be spewed on holy ground because then He can roll up His sleeves and clean up the mess. There’s a reason God called the Hebrews the “Israelites”—”those who wrestle with God” by definition. It’s only in the struggle that we can make peace with God.

Conclusion

So, as we move out of 2024, let us not remain entrapped by the siren call of regret and bitterness. Let us choose the healing balm of forgiveness, let us find freedom, and let us practice faith for a better new year.

“Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
(Ephesians 4:32)

Why Christianity is Un-American

By Ife J. Ibitayo

With over 200 million Americans identifying as Christians, there are more Christians in the United States than anywhere else in the world. Yet I’d like to contend that the core values that established this great nation—independence, upward mobility, and consumerism—are antithetical to the heart of Biblical Christianity.

Independence

Nothing is more synonymous with the United States than independence. Nearly 250 years ago, the Declaration of Independence was ratified, and our great nation has been striving to free itself from all dependence ever since. To be American is to be self-sufficient. We pride ourselves on “pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps” and “going it alone.” The myth of the self-made man has obtained a strong foothold in American heart because it enables us to be the “architect of our good fortunes” owing “little or nothing to birth or relationships” in the words of Frederick Douglass. Yet this fallacy runs counter to our innate wiring.

When God created Adam, He said, “It is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18).  This truth was never meant to be narrowly constrained to marriage. It’s a broader observation about our human condition. We were made to be interdependent rather than independent, interconnected rather than disconnected. And science affirms this truth. People who lack quality friendships are twice as likely to die prematurely. And loneliness carries the same health risks as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. So, clearly, it doesn’t just “take a village to raise a child”, it takes one to sustain an adult as well.

Upward Mobility

The second pillar of United States’ culture is the American Dream: the belief that with enough hard work and determination, one can achieve the wealth and power they believe they are due. Upward mobility is a beautiful thing. It has given millions of immigrants—including my own parents—access to opportunities available in few other countries on the face of this planet. However, when the force of our culture is bent toward advancement, it turns us away from abasement—which is crucial to developing a heart like Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus’ time here on this earth, Scripture says, “Though He was God, He did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When He appeared in human form, He humbled Himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8). Jesus could have been king (John 6:14-15), supreme ruler of the planet (Luke 4:5-7), and commander general of an unstoppable divine force (Matthew 26:53), but instead He chose to be a toweled foot washer (John 13:3-5) and cosmic scapegoat (Isaiah 53:5-6). To be like Jesus is to continually put one’s self second. We subordinate our desires to the needs of other people even if it costs us a raise, a promotion, or something else precious in our lives.

Consumerism

Lastly, to be American is to be a consumer. Our one trillion-dollar credit card debt proves that we’ve become very, very good at this. We equate stuff with happiness and greater happiness with more stuff. This mindset has even leaked into the church—with over three-quarters of Christians believing God wants them to “prosper financially“. We’ve come to see faith as the lubricant for our finances. “Name it and claim it, sister. Believe it and receive it, brother.” In this way, Christianity really has become Marx’s “opium for the masses.”

But the way of the cross is marked by radical generosity. Speaking again of the founder of our faith, Scripture says, “You know the generous grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though he was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that by His poverty He could make you rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). In like manner, Christianity isn’t marked by how much we get but by how much we give. We must all wholeheartedly accept the truth that it is “more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35) that lies at the core of our faith.

Conclusion

In conclusion, rather than dovetailing neatly, Americanism and Christianity often lie in tension with one another. To be a true Christian in the United States is not to go along with the rest of society but to be countercultural. It’s to turn in our passports and accept that we are resident aliens living in a foreign land (Hebrews 11:13). For just as the world is not our home, neither is America.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–His good, pleasing and perfect will.”
(Romans 12:2)

The God of Second, Third, and Fourth Chances

By Ife J. Ibitayo

A good friend of mine moved away earlier this year. We’d gone through so much together. I remember weeping with her on the chapel floor when she felt distant from God. I prayed for her when she quit her first job and stepped out in faith. But when she threw a going away party the week before she left, I kept my distance.

I was trapped in my head, tormented by voices that lied that she wouldn’t want me there anyway.  As I lay on the wooden floor of my apartment, sicker than I’d ever been in my life, I didn’t know if I’d see any of my friends again. By the time my health returned a few months later, she was already gone.

However, later this year, I decided to return to basketball after a three-month hiatus. To my amazement, I ran into her at the gym. As we hugged each other, I couldn’t believe that she was real. I finally had my chance to give her a proper goodbye.

Blowing My Chance

I’ve been a perfectionist for a very long time. I’ve always wanted to say just the right words and do just the right things because I feared suffering irreparable consequences if I didn’t. In the words of the great sage Yoda, “Do or do not. There is no try.” There is no “trying”. There is only success or failure, and anything less than an A+ is utter failure.

As it turns out, doing everything right all the time is not a sustainable way to live, especially when the stakes are high—such as running a company and trying to graduate with an MBA as I was. When my health began to fail—physically, mentally, and spiritually, I assumed that my entire life would fall apart. I saw myself getting kicked out of my program, running out of money, and living out the rest of my days on the cold streets of Los Angeles. But somehow I graduated with honors and am currently clothed, housed, and in my right mind.

Speaking to my therapist, I described the experience as falling into a giant comforter. I thrashed about as I plummeted through the sky, but something caught me and guided my descent down. It was only later that I knew that “thing” was God and that that comforter was grace.

Conclusion

There is a well-known concept in Christian communities known as “divining the will of God.” We don’t want to end up in His “permissive will” rather than His “perfect will” or, God-forbid “outside His will”. We have to get it right every single time: We have to marry the right person and choose the right job and have the right creamer with our coffee or we just might miss the amazing plan God has for our lives. But God knows that we are screwups for life. The Scripture itself says, “We see in a glass dimly” (1 Corinthians 13:12). And as we bumble around, making errors left and right, God remains unfazed. He will lead us back to where He wants us to go and back to the people He wants us to see because He is the God of second, third, and fourth chances.

“But [God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest of me.”

(2 Corinthians 12:9)

Life in the Light of Death

By Ife J. Ibitayo

Unfortunately, I’ve lived long enough to have my share fair of brushes with death. One particularly vivid near-death experience happened the day after I was accepted into graduate school. I went for a walk in my neighborhood. I suddenly heard a crack! of metal crashing past metal, and I turned around just in time to see a SUV barreling toward me. I leaped out of the way at the last second. The car flew past me, flattened a yield sign, then crashed into a tree. In a daze, I registered, I could have died.

Yield Sign That Took My Place

Death is Lurking

In the Bible, Jesus tells a parable about a wealthy business owner. His business was so successful that his greatest difficulty in life was figuring out how to store all his earnings (Luke 12:16-19). But God suddenly appeared to the man and said, “‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself’” (Luke 12:20)?

This is a haunting question. Most of us live as if we have an eternity left here on this earth, but death is always lurking in the background, a specter that could sneak up on us at any moment. When it does what will become of everything we worked so hard to earn?

Life is Short

We all know that our trophies, accolades, promotions, and investments will perish as soon as we hit the dirt, yet we pursue them anyway because we live with the illusion of time. “I can see my grandparents next month.” “We can go on date night next weekend.” “I can tuck my kids in tomorrow.” While we rack up the Benjamins today. But tomorrow won’t always come. Life will be far shorter than most of us anticipate.

Death Encourages Life

So what then? If life is short, is it meaningless? Does death nullify the point of our existence? No, it’s quite the opposite. The Bible exhorts us: “Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a cheerful heart, for God has already approved your works: Let your garments always be white, and never spare the oil for your head. Enjoy life with your beloved wife all the days of the fleeting life that God has given you under the sun…for this is your portion in life and in your labor under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 9:7-9). Ironically, death does not erase life but encourages us to make the most of it.

“Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot.”

(Ecclesiastes 5:18)

Hurt People Heal People

What do you think of when I say the word “pain?” I’m certain that I don’t need to jog your memory for a list of painful circumstances you might have experienced. Your current unemployment, your bout with cancer, or your messy divorce surely come to mind of their own accord. And now that I’ve triggered such unwelcome flashbacks, you must be asking why I would do such a thing. What point is there in reliving pain?

Pain Hurts

But the problem of pain is not the pain itself. From pregnancy to pull-ups, many of us will welcome pain into our lives because we already know the purpose behind it. As many expectant mothers will relate, “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world” (John 16:21). Rather the problem of pain is the problem of meaninglessness.

Meaninglessness Kills

 A close friend of mine and his wife were diagnosed with cancer within a year of one another. Another friend of mine whose been dealing with insomnia and depression recently had a miscarriage. And I had my own fresh hell at the start of this year. When answers are lacking and our wounds haven’t even scabbed over yet, empty platitudes won’t suffice. “God works all things together for good”  (Romans 8:28) doesn’t seem to cut it anymore. What “good” could possibly come from such tremendous loss?

Reframing Heals

One of our greatest superpowers as human beings is our ability to choose how we interpret our past trials. Vulnerability researcher Dr. Brene Brown once said that the power of a story is that it grants us control over our narrative. We are no longer the victim of our experiences but its author. And we can leverage that narrative authority to write a better ending for ourselves and for others.

Conclusion

We don’t have the ability to choose all the hellish things we’ll go through in this life, but we can decide if we pass that hell on to others or leverage it to drag them back from the abyss.

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”

(2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

The Religion of the Wet Towel

Ife J. Ibitayo

“I recommend having fun because there is nothing better for people in this world than to eat, drink, and enjoy life.” Where is this quote from? Good Morning America? A famous actor like Ryan Reynolds or Adam Sandler? You might be surprised to learn that this is a verse in the Bible.

Which begs the question, why is this so surprising? How was Christianity rebranded as the Religion of the Wet Towel? When did the faith that is supposed to bring “abundant life” become such a killjoy?

The Origin of the Wet Towel

It didn’t start with Jesus. In the book of Luke, Jesus described the words of His naysayers in this way: “The Son of Man feasts and drinks and you say, ‘He’s a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’” (Luke 7:34). Jesus spent so much time partying and enjoying Himself that the religious establishment thought He should have less fun, not more. Time and time again, Jesus railed against the stodgy buzzkills of His day because they deprived people of the joy God had called for them to obtain. Yet, over the course of time, Jesus’ church has come to be known for the opposite. In its pursuit of holiness, many in the church have lost happiness along the way.

The Consequences of the Wet Towel

Too often, Christianity is portrayed as a religion of “don’ts.” Don’t curse, don’t drink, don’t sleep around. No more partying, gambling, or fun for you. Then, there’s all the stuff you need to do instead like giving up 10% of your hard-earned income. Do all the right things and don’t do all the wrong things, then you will be accepted into God’s family.

I was once part of a Christian organization that embodied this rigid, rule-based system. If we weren’t serving, we were evangelizing. If we weren’t evangelizing, we were studying the Bible. If we weren’t studying the Bible, we were hanging out together—by force. And if I ever missed a church event, woe to me for having chosen the movies over Jesus. I nearly suffered a nervous breakdown trying to do everything right at all times in every way, and I definitely was not having much fun. But Christianity was never supposed to be this way.

The book of Colossians says, “’Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!’ Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility, and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence” (Colossians 2:21-23). This means the true Christian faith is not about restriction but freedom, relationship rather than regulation. Otherwise, Christianity simply becomes another ladder we climb up to prove yet again that we’re worthy.

The Alternative to the Wet Towel

Our society tries to present us with a false dichotomy: be holy and miserable or happy and sinful. But the way of Christ is both happy and holy. It involves self-sacrifice, but it also entails appreciating the bounty God has blessed us with, living at a different pace than the hamster wheel of our culture, and enjoying time with our friends and family. If we’re not experiencing both, that isn’t Christianity.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. [Jesus] came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

John 10:10