Hope After Epstein
Spiritual Hope After Seeing Evil Up Close
And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse.—Revelation 22:2-3
Against my better judgment, I recently spent some time perusing some of the highlights (low lights) from the recently released Epstein documents and the related testimonies from victims. I’ll spare you the details here, but suffice it to say that the some of the most wealthy and powerful people in the world were regularly gathering together to do some genuinely evil things involving minors.
I have no idea what the fallout of these documents will be, if anything. I’ve grown a bit more jaded in my view of government and the lengths to which those in power will go in order to protect their power. To add insult to injury, a recently released internal FBI memo seems to indicate that investigators with access to the Epstein files have been asked to redact the faces of “former U.S. Presidents, Secretary of State, and other celebrities.” (I currently am only aware of Presidents Clinton and Trump being mentioned—Trump somewhat infamously having been named 38,000 times in the files—but I am certain others will come to light in the days to come.) Perhaps this is because of an ongoing investigation. But—back to being jaded—I fear that it is simply more proof that the powerful are able to use their power to get away with most anything.
As a result, I’m currently unconvinced that anything will happen regarding the release of the documents. Powerful people did terrible things, but, because they are powerful, they will likely be able to proceed with few, if any, consequences. I could be wrong, and I will certainly hope for justice, but I’m not holding my breath.
We went to church this morning, and I needed it.
As you may have gathered from my opening, I’ve been a tad overwhelmed with the presence of evil in the world. It’s not just Epstein. It seems to be everywhere.
While we were sitting in our pew this morning (Yes, we have a pew; we’re Baptist), I was having a hard time concentrating on worship. The service this morning was particularly beautiful, but I had made the mistake of reading the news before coming to worship, and my mind was elsewhere.
About halfway through the service, we sang “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” It’s one of the great all-time songs of the Christian faith. It’s one of those songs that is so powerful, so anointed, that (at least for me) when I sing it, I am brought straight into the presence of God.
This line, particularly, is good for my soul:
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow / Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside.
Strength for today. Hope for tomorrow.
That’s what I needed today. That’s what I need every day.
As I listened to the sermon, I found myself absentmindedly running my finger along one of the carved grooves in the end cap of our pew. I glanced across the aisle and looked at the end of the facing pew. The pews are gorgeous. They were hand carved over a century ago. (Our church celebrates 175 years this year. It is not quite as old as Texas, which is 179 years old.)
Suddenly, a realization hit me—an epiphany of sorts.
How many others have sat in these same pews—this very same pew on which I sit, even—and felt overwhelmed at the travesties of the world? How many mothers have prayed in these pews for their sons fighting in wars in places they themselves would never visit? How many addicts have cried out in these pews, hoping to be delivered from their affliction? How many fathers have prayed for their children to be healed? How many husbands have wondered how they were going to make ends meet?
The answer is unknowable by anyone but God himself, but the number must be in the thousands, if not tens of thousands.
And, as if on cue, about that time, my pastor had us all repeat after him out loud:
“Have faith in God.”
My mind cleared. My body relaxed.
And I knew he was telling me the truth.
Around 1935, Dietrich Bonhoeffer started an underground seminary in Finkenwalde, Germany. The German church—called “German Christians” in order to emphasize their own ethnic nationality—had been co-opted by Hitler. The bishop of the church, Ludwig Müller, gave his full support to the Nazis. Any pastor who wanted to become ordained in the state church of Germany (not the only, but certainly the most significant church of its day) was required to swear an oath of allegiance to Hitler in order to sit for ordination.
Those pastors who dissented against the Nazis had their challenges, to be sure, but ordination was not one of them. Those who felt called to ministry, however, faced a different situation. If they wanted to become a pastor, they would have to get ordained. And to get ordained, they had to attend a seminary. But how could they do that if they dissented?
Enter Bonhoeffer.
The Finkenwalde experiment was small and short-lived, but it was mighty. A group of young seminarians moved into common life together, with Bonhoeffer as their teacher.
Unlike traditional seminaries with a pure classroom format, Bonhoeffer imposed a somewhat untraditional approach to seminary education—weaving in a rigorous schedule of prayer, meditation, and worship alongside typical courses. Each morning began in silence. The first spoken word of the day was in prayer. The seminarians were required to confess sins to another seminarian.
As you might imagine, some of the students were less enthusiastic about such a regimen. One of the students, in particular, complained regularly about the spiritual exercises, asking repeatedly why they were necessary. “Why do we need to do this sort of thing? What purpose does it serve?”
In response, Bonhoeffer invited him to meet at the shore. They took a boat down the coast for several miles and eventually came ashore. They walked to the top of a hill and looked down into a valley.
“When the two rowers reached the far shore, Bonhoeffer led Niesel up a small hill from which they could see in the distance a vast field and the ‘runaways of a nearby squadron.’ German fighter planes were taking off and landing, and soldiers moved hurriedly in purposeful patterns, like so many ants. Bonhoeffer spoke of a new generation of Germans in training, whose disciplines were formed ‘for a kingdom…of hardness and cruelty.’ It would be necessary, he explained, to propose a superior discipline if the Nazis were to be defeated.
Bonhoeffer explained: ‘You have to be stronger than these tormenters you find everywhere today.’1
How do we discipline ourselves to be stronger than these tormentors?
How do we find hope, find the ability to have faith in God when things feel dark?
This past week I had breakfast with Jimmy Dorrell. Jimmy is something of a local legend in Waco, Texas. He started a church for the unhoused community that meets each Sunday morning called Church Under the Bridge. He started an organization designed to help the most underresourced individuals in the city called Mission Waco. He has spearheaded economic revitalization in North Waco, helping create a number of businesses and—most notably—an affordable medical clinic that serves the community.
When we walked the area where he has served and lived for most of his life, he showed me greenhouse. He asked me: “Do you know the difference between hydroponics and aquaponics?” He has relentlessly pursued creativity because he loves the people of North Waco, and he wants them to know Jesus.
What did he talk about the entire time we were together?
The Kingdom. How to follow Jesus. Serving the poor. Prayer. Knowing the Scriptures. Church. Refugees. Neighbors. Missions.
You know what he didn’t talk about? He didn’t talk much about the problems in the world. (Except where they overlapped directly with local issues.)
Don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t ignoring those issues. He just wasn’t putting most of his energy towards them.
He was making a difference where he could, how he could.
How do we become stronger than these tormentors?
How do we fight the darkness?
In Revelation 22:1-5, we get a picture of our hope:
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.
I read this passage this morning. It’s something of a North Star for me. When I wonder how to live in a dark world, I remember that this is what God will do when He sets all thing right. The church is to live as if the world has been remade already. We are to live Heaven now.
In a world this dark, we need a North Star.
I don’t know that I have easy answers. But I think I have an answer.
It sounds a lot like Jimmy Dorrell.
Kingdom. Following Jesus. Serving the poor. Prayer. Knowing the Scriptures. Living in community with the church. Loving our neighbors.
You get the point.
This is not about ignoring the pain in the world.
This is about healing the pain you can.
The easiest tormentors to beat are the ones in your own backyard.
Is there evil in the world? Yes. Should we push back against it? Absolutely.
But aside from engaging in the national and global pursuit of goodness, I know that there is something good and right about having faith in God and putting my best energy right here, right now.
Look for the North Star. Chart the course. And follow Jesus.
This story can be found in Charles Marsh’s biography of Bonhoeffer, Strange Glory, page 146.
I love that song Great is Thy Faithfulness! This was a good post! Thank you! I’ve had many of the same thoughts and I know my Hope is in Jesus, my work is to be for Him! I have to remind myself, He is not surprised by any of this evil! He is Sovereign…. And this is NOT the end! Praise God!!!!!!!
Thanks Steve. Your thoughts are an encouragement to me. 😊💛