I recently listened to a Mockingbird podcast featuring Sarah Condon, an Episcopalian priest in Nashville who described babysitting for a friend (a mother of three boys) who needed a break. The mother and her husband needed a date-night and Sarah was happy to accommodate. Sarah said the mother and her husband were very spiritual and had created the perfect caring environment for their children. The mother told Sarah that she usually sings a few songs to the kids after they get in bed.
So Sarah went to the four year-old’s room first, sat on the bed, and said, “your mom tells me you like Jesus Loves me, can we sing that one? To which the boy said, “No, I don’t like Jesus…I mean I like dead Jesus.” Sarah found that kind of interesting and said, “Really? What do you like about dead Jesus?” He replied, "Well, they should have used a really big stone on the tomb. It would have kept him there.” And then he said, “I would have been a Velociraptor [a deadly dinosaur] and hunted Jesus down and killed him.”
That good night ritual didn’t turn out like Sarah envisioned.
In the podcast Sarah said she tells the story to show how terrifying and confusing life can be to a four year-old. The idea of death and resurrection is not a routine concept for a little kid to accept. And actually, if we’re willing to admit it, it's pretty scary for us as adults. When things become too painful to understand it’s tempting to scrap them, along with the narratives we were taught about God eventually fixing everything. In our most vulnerable moment we think, it's not going to happen.
The Divided States
Our country is so broken right now many don’t know where to turn. Far from united, it feels like we’ve become the Divided States of America. Everywhere we turn there is fake news, lies, and more lies. It’s like everyone wants to convince you of their truth. It's like we’re watching a contractor try to build a house without a level or a ruler.
But I don’t want to park on this thought. I love what Ann Frank wrote many years ago during Hitler’s reign:
“It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
Can we believe this? Especially after someone chews us out at the grocery store for having a few items over the limit for the express lane. Or do we believe it when someone flips us off in a fit of rage for going the speed limit.
There are people and forces who want us to hate what we don’t understand. Hell’s minions want us to join their efforts to dumb everyone down to four-letter words. But we are called to something far better.
Social media has exposed those who have a proclivity to talk about everyone and everything—especially about what they know little of. We have entered the age of uninformed diatribes and opinions—where many (perhaps the majority) get high on hearing themselves pontificate about everything and nothing.
We have become a nation of “armchair” critics. What we don’t understand we are quick to condemn.
How can we avoid being like that? By developing a sense of reverence for God and life; by pondering his words and works (nature). Doing so fills us with a sense of awe. Who are we to be loved by the Creator of the universe? Were we not placed here to bring good to a blighted broken world?
How dare we pollute the world with our unseasoned blather and verbal garbage? Oh that we would measure our words and put a throttle between our brains and our tongues. The world longs for measured silence, like the rests found in a musical score. The constant uninterrupted noise destroys life’s melody. Without rests there is no healing cadence or predictable pattern. It’s helter-skelter, 24/7.
No wonder people kill themselves or self-medicate to try and muffle the pain. We were meant for better.
The Oil of Kindness
Without lubrication, the internal parts of an engine eventually wear out and destroy each other. Stories are out there about people whose engines froze up because they forgot to check the oil. The same can be said of people. Kindness is the oil that lubricates the wheels of civil discourse and interaction. Without it we eventually grate and grind against each other in destructive ways.
Collectively, the worst thing we can do to a church, community or country is to neglect to cultivate an ethos of grace and compassion.
As Elisabeth Kübler-Ross said, “The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
Watch Sarah Condon give devotional | pdf version of When Life Hurts
Rich DuBose writes from Northern California.
On the web at: richdubose.com. All Rights Reserved © 2025. Join me on Blue Sky @spiritrenew.bsky.social.