A Redemptive Arc
We all love redemption - but we may forget all of its necessary elements
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Last week, I met a friend for coffee. He had been through a number of challenging circumstances over the last year or more. My wife and I had the opportunity to walk with he and his wife through many of those circumstances, sometimes in person, sometimes from a distance. I had prayed for him and his family and this situation often - prayed for a redemptive movement in his story. Even so, I didn't really expect any change in his circumstances as we met that morning. But my friend had, unexpectedly, seemingly out of the blue, received some good news - news of an unforeseen blessing that changed the situation completely for himself and for his family. Suddenly, a movement of grace. Suddenly, a redemptive turn. We all love redemption stories. They give us hope - the darkness can turn into dawn, the worm can turn, we can look, against the trend and all the odds, for a situation, perhaps our situation, to improve.
For a number of reasons, redemption stories have long been prominent in our culture. As I write this, I am witnessing a redemption story of a hurdler who was favored for gold at an earlier Olympics and won a silver instead. Technically, winning gold in this Olympics was a redemption story - but the dark time in that story isn’t very dark after all. A silver medal is beyond most of our wildest dreams, so these things can be relative and personal. But think about the stories of the admirable person undergoing trial and reaching, or almost reaching, the breaking point before redemption visits - A Wonderful Life is one possible example. There is the person from tough circumstances who overcomes them through their own work, sure, but also through the intervention and love of others - we can reflect on the lives of many athletes thanking their mothers as their agent of redemption. These stories are a bit different than my friend’s story - and I’ll explore that in a minute, but they share a flavor of redemption. Think about the stories of the significantly less than admirable person awakening to the possibility of a new life - think Breaking Bad. OK - just kidding, that isn’t a redemption story. But even this more recent trend of what we might call anti-redemptive stories play out against the background of the redemptive arc - they exist as the negative image of redemption.
Why are we drawn to redemption? Long time readers, or any readers who have embraced a Christian understanding of us and our world, will already know at least some of my answers to this question. We all need redemption - we are people afflicted by our brokenness and the brokenness of others. We are not promised, or destined, to move from success to success in an unbroken, upward curving line. Moving through brokenness toward redemption, and helping others do the same, is a part of who we are in this world - at our best. Encompassing our own individual redemptive movements and the redemptive movements of our communities - we are all players in an epic and eternal story of redemption. We are wired for it, if you will - our brokenness provides an ongoing need for redemption and an ongoing opportunity to participate in the redemptive movement of others. Those are just a few of the possible draws for us to redemption.
And yet. George Bailey, Jimmy Stewart’s character, was ready to jump off a bridge - that was an integral element of his redemption story. The beginning of it in one sense, but the middle of it or close to the end of it in another.
I have experienced redemption, like my friend has, on a number of levels. Like him, I, with my wife, went through a time of dark circumstances - betrayals, humiliations, the whispering and speculation of those who don’t know and think they do. The helplessness … that is not an attractive part of the redemptive story, but it is often present. The dependence - on God, faith, prayer, grace, others - all good things - but it doesn’t feel good - the circumstances driving you to that dependence on those good things - they don’t feel good. It doesn’t seem good - in many cases, it isn’t good. Bad things have happened - injustices, pain, loss. But good can come from it. Redemption is a good thing - a necessary movement in all of our stories - but the need for redemption doesn’t feel good and is often driven by what we can only call bad. There is no happy way to dress that up. Redemption is good coming from bad - they meant it for evil, but God made it good (in the end).
When I showed up for that coffee with my friend, I wasn’t thinking about redemption. Because, as far as I knew, it hadn’t arrived. As far as I knew, the redemption that has seemed to arrive, wasn’t going to. It is a thing that takes many forms and often arrives in an unexpected packages. Sometimes you don’t know it has arrived until sometime later - in the moment, you may not think of it as redemption at all. That is the thing about it - we reach what we think is the end of our rope, and redemption may show up - or we may discover that someone has given us more rope, or tied us in more securely, instead of pulling us up from the darkness. Sometimes, that is the only redemption we will receive in this part of our story.
I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
And after my skin has been destroyed,
yet in my flesh I will see God;
I myself will see him
with my own eyes—I, and not another.
How my heart yearns within me!
Job 19:25-27
I’m not sure we think of Job’s story as a redemption story. But that is our misapprehension of redemption. It is most obviously the classic case of someone dealing with suffering. But redemption comes through suffering. We are redeemed not only to something, but from something and through something.
But redemption comes through suffering. We are redeemed not only to something, but from something and through something.
We get a lot of Job’s thoughts as we read his story. Most of them aren’t real pretty. He wasn’t celebrating his redemptive arc. He was experiencing darkness and loss and grief. He didn’t know how his earthly circumstances would turn out. But he knew the most important part of redemption. He didn’t know what redemption looked like for him, but he knew his redeemer. And he knew, by faith, that his redeemer would come, but he didn’t know when. He knew, by faith, that he would see God - though it may come after his skin has been destroyed. Not exactly a Disney movie picture of redemption. And when redemption came - when he was blessed with many new things in place of all he had lost, as my friend was experiencing and I had experienced - the loss remains. The loss and grief are there, but they have been redeemed. There is no grand vindication, there is no wiping clean of the slate - there is redemption. Good from bad.
And, I think, this is the point. When it comes to redemption, as is the case with many other things, what we would wish for isn’t what is the best for us - and by God’s grace, we don’t get it. The beauty of redemption is in dependence on the Redeemer - in trusting Him and waiting on Him - in believing that “I myself will see him with my own eyes - I, and not another.” We all want redemption. We all need it. But it is in the waiting for it where the real work is done.
