by Barbara Berry Bailey

My children (even the adult) and I have played a little speech game since they were first-graders. If you have ever had any sort of speech or theatrical training, you have probably played it as well. It is the game of changing the emphasis on different words in a sentence in order to change the meaning of that sentence. Take, for example, the title of this article: Jesus never fails. Depending on which word is stressed when you read it, your expectations of this article would change.

To say that "Jesus never fails" sets up an expectation of comparison: Jesus is the be–all, end-all, and you’re not (or I’m not or it’s not). Theologian Paul Tillich defines faith as "ultimate concern." The person who would say "I do not have faith in (whatever/whomever)" has an ultimate concern about something, the situational outcome, perhaps. The question is, "Does that something — or someone — always satisfy, always succeed? Is it always there, especially in time of need?" The answer, of course, is "No." And the response then would be, "Well, Jesus never fails."

If I were to say, "Jesus never fails," acceptance of Jesus as the One on whom to depend is presupposed. The heart of this article would demonstrate how, time after time, Jesus has triumphed over sorrow, triumphed over injustice, triumphed over evil. Of course, these victories are in God’s good time and not ours. But not one single time in the history of humankind has Jesus ever fallen short, because Jesus never fails.

Finally, we come to Jesus never fails. When Jesus walked the earth, he did a lot of things. As an infant, he cried, regardless of what the writer of "Away in a Manger" wrote. As a child he played; as a teen he studied. In his ministry, he preached, healed, prayed, wept, and although the canonical writings do not say so specifically, I believe that Jesus laughed. But the one thing Jesus never did was fail. Skeptics will challenge that statement by saying, "If Jesus was so successful, why did he die an agonizing criminal’s death by asphyxiation on a cross? He failed all right! He failed to stay alive, he failed, and his followers failed, too." But to remain in human form was not Christ’s mission. Jesus came to die, to shed the mortal body and put on the imperishable, so that we could also do the same. And his followers did not fail because if they did, you would not be reading this magazine for his followers, Christians.

DEEP SORROW
Yes, it is hard to understand why God chose for Jesus "such a backward time and such a strange land." But the land was strange only to our modern eyes, and, considering our troubles here in the United States and elsewhere in the world, the question I ask is, "Whose times are backward?"

I have often heard the speculation that if Jesus came today, the story of his earthly existence would have ended differently. But we know better than that. We have the Gospel accounts of Jesus; the people of his time did not. Jesus called people to love and serve regardless of the consequences, and his teachings conflicted with the practices of those in authority. Jesus came as a model of the godly life and became a sacrifice for sin. The same thing would happen today. Only through his death and resurrection could humans know that Jesus never failed.

I know in my head and in the depths of my soul that Jesus never fails. But even as I write this, I am in a place of deep despair and sorrow. So much so that I cannot hold back my tears in public.

In some ways it is comical, how people cannot deal with public tears. I was sitting on a bench waiting for the train to take me downtown when all of a sudden I started crying. Not a funeral wail, but tears, sniffling—obviously crying. There was a woman not far from me who, when she noticed that I had begun crying, started scanning the platform to see what had made me cry. There was a billboard with young adults laughing. She squinted and read the text silently while moving her lips. I suspect she could not understand why that would make someone cry. It was obvious that she was most uncomfortable, so much so that I almost laughed, but I could only sob. And then she just walked away.

JOY COMES IN THE MORNING
Well–meaning friends try to console me in my deep sorrow by quoting Psalm 30:5, "Joy comes in the morning." But I wonder, "How dark and long is the night?"

In this time of deep darkness, I continue my daily devotions; I study the Sunday texts so that I can preach (and hear) the good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ. But my love for God in Christ and for my neighbor does nothing to make my pain go away. I know it will, in time, but right now, it hurts. And it hurts so much that I cannot hold back my tears in public, even knowing how that affects people’s perception of me. But that does not mean that Jesus has failed or failed me.

At this time of disasters in the United States and around the world, there is a lot of talk about people being forsaken by God or people being "left behind." Those are the ponderings of people who do not know that Jesus did not come to leave anyone behind, but rather to go and prepare a place for us, that where he is, we might be also. The only thing "left behind" for us is the Advocate, the Comforter, God’s promised Holy Spirit that blows where it will and works in people who do not even know the Spirit is at work in them.

There are those who see my tears and do not run away but rather stay with me in my sorrow. And in that action, for me, joy comes in the mourning.

Jesus never promised that we would not suffer. And at times the suffering is so deep that we wonder if the morning will ever come before we see Jesus face to face. But Jesus did promise to be with us always, even in the deep darkness. And, at that, Jesus has never failed and will never fail. Jesus never fails.

When your dark night is so deep that it seems the clock has stopped, do not lose hope. Even in the darkness, the One who was with the Creator when the light was created is there with you. God grant you night vision, that even in the darkness, even in your mourning, you may see and know the joy of being who you are, a child of God.

The Rev. Barbara Berry Bailey is associate director for worship in the ELCA.