2020 Hindsight

America, 1860. The nation had long been divided over the issue of slavery. When Abraham Lincoln, a staunch abolitionist, was elected in 1860, South Carolina responded by seceding from the Union. By the time the Civil War began in April, 1861, ten more southern states had followed South Carolina’s lead.

1861 marked a year of national tragedy as the United States divided and families were torn apart by disagreements over the issue of slavery and which side to fight on. It was also a year of personal tragedy for the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Longfellow was an abolitionist who lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In July of 1861, his beloved wife died when her dress caught on fire. Longfellow tried to put out the flames but couldn’t save his wife. He was badly burned, his face so disfigured that he grew a beard to cover the burns. But he couldn’t hide his mental anguish, and he sank into a deep depression. A year after his wife’s death, Longfellow wrote in his journal: “I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace.”

A year later, Longfellow’s son, a Union soldier, was shot and critically injured. Longfellow spent months nursing him back to health. Longfellow’s heart was broken over his wife’s death, his son’s injuries, and the war. But on Christmas Day in 1864, he heard church bells ringing. And he wrote this poem, which was later set to music:
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong,
 And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail,
With peace on earth, goodwill to men.”

The right did indeed prevail, and the Civil War ended in April of 1865. Fast forward from then to now. Our current situation is not as dire as it was in the 1860s, but it’s still dismal. We’re living in a pandemic. In America alone, over 5.7 million people have contracted the virus, and 176,660 have died from it. We’re uncertain about nearly every aspect of life right now—schooling, employment, even sports and other gatherings. Yet in a time when we should be coming together to find solutions, we’re arguing with each other over issues like wearing masks.

And with an election looming, we’re also arguing over issues and candidates. I know many people who have lost friends and whose families are divided because of their support of one candidate over the other. The division isn’t on the scale that it was during the Civil War, but it’s still pervasive, sobering, and in many situations, heartbreaking. One of those situations occurred in June when social unrest exploded in the aftermath of the death of George Floyd. Protests all over the world highlighted the issue of systemic racism, yet racial tensions escalated when protesters and police clashed, often violently.

Add to this the natural disasters the world has experienced in 2020—earthquakes in Turkey and the Caribbean. Bushfires in Australia. A locust outbreak in Africa and Asia that affected the food supply of 25 million people. As I write this, two hurricanes are threatening Cuba and the Gulf Coast. There are wildfires in California, Utah, Arizona, Oregon, and Colorado, forcing people to evacuate and causing a devastating loss of homes and wildlife. Where we live in Colorado, there’s a brown haze in the air (as you can see in the picture), and the sun and moon have an eerie, nearly apocalyptic glow.

I remind myself often that none of this is new to God, and none of it is a surprise to Him. We are not the first country or time period to experience a pandemic, divisiveness, and natural disasters. God brought this country through the Civil War and put it back together afterwards—broken, flawed, but united once more. I have no doubt that He will do the same for us. He put Longfellow’s broken life back together, too—the man who said he could “make no record of days” went on to write more poetry and translate major works, bringing him awards and accolades from Europe and America.

Yet in the midst of Longfellow’s personal and national tragedies, he wrote that he felt “utterly wretched and overwhelmed–to the eyes of others, outwardly calm, but inwardly bleeding to death.” Do any of you feel like Longfellow did? Depressed? Overwhelmed? Lonely because you’re dying on the inside but wearing a brave face? Looking for peace in the midst of uncertainty?

I have felt every one of those emotions this year. Last week, when I was sick, I felt a desperate need for peace. Like Longfellow, I bowed my head in despair. But Longfellow didn’t keep his head down. He looked up. He remembered the God He’d always known, and despite the tragedy all around him, he resolutely staked his faith on that God. That’s what I did last week. I looked up. I remembered the God I knew—the One who had always been faithful to me. I trusted my past experiences with God, not my feelings in the moment. In the midst of physical illness and mental uncertainty, I reached for words that spoke of healing and certainty: Ps 62:11-12a, which says, “One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that You, O God, are strong, and that, You, O Lord, are loving.” God is strong enough to heal me—I’m absolutely certain of that because He’s done it time and time again. And He is loving enough to comfort me during that process.

He is strong and loving enough for you, too. Even if your feelings tell you differently or your current circumstances or the problems in our country seem overwhelming. Even if you feel like the darkness that surrounds you will never be light, or as though God isn’t listening and doesn’t care about you anyway. Don’t trust those feelings. Trust the God you know. Remember what He’s done for you in the past and how far He’s brought you. Look up from your despair, and ask God for the peace and hope your soul is craving. You might have to ask again and again. I did last week. It would have been easier to stay in a place of despair than to fight for hope and peace. But I can tell you that the fight is worth it. So a million times a day, I fight. I look up. I ask God for peace. And He gives it to me. Because He is strong and loving. And, in the words of Longfellow, “God is not dead nor does He sleep”–even if it looks like it, given the state of our world. Look up, my friends. Fight for hope. And pray for our nation—for “peace on earth, goodwill to men.”