KSR Voices: The God Who Knows What It’s Like

KSR has never been one for conventional. It’s what we love most about it. But the postgame show following the Notre Dame game broke the boundaries of conventional radio like never before. Vulnerable callers sharing immeasurable heartbreak, hosts left speechless, tears from everyone, heck, even a closing prayer from Ryan Lemond. Only on KSR. And yet for those who listened (and if you haven’t you must), it felt strangely appropriate, because our state is in ruins, both literally and emotionally. 

But amid the ruins, I would like to offer a word of comfort to the state I love. For those who don’t know, I’m a pastor who occasionally opines on religion and culture on this website. Arguably the best example that KSR does not, in fact, stick to sports. I recognize not every reader would call themselves religious, but it seems tragedy has a way of bringing a bit of religion out of us all. And so I hope these pastoral words will bring some measure of hope to our Commonwealth’s seemingly hopeless situation.

I think compounding the pain we are feeling is the timing of this disaster. Tornadoes are supposed to happen in the spring and summer, not Christmas. The thought of losing loved ones right before loved ones were planning to gather, of families without homes, let alone presents, for their children, of a season normally marked by rituals of joy violated by grief—it’s just unimaginably sad.

And yet I believe Christmas is exactly what the suffering need. Not the shallow sentimentality that only mocks our pain, but Christmas in its truest form. What we need is the good news that because God is born to us, we now have a God who can relate to us. 

Nothing is more insulting to the hurting than well-meaning people who can’t relate trying to offer naïve counsel. Perhaps those struggling are able to force a polite, “Thank you,” but inside the thought rages, you have no idea what it’s like. But the opposite is also true. I call it the power of relatability. It’s those who have actually walked through depression who are able to help the depressed, for example. People want to know they are not alone in their grief. They want to know that somebody has been there before and has experienced what they are experiencing, but tragically this relatability is often an elusive comfort. Who among us can relate to our friends in Western Kentucky in this hour? I certainly can’t.

And yet because of the utterly unique Christmas claim that God himself has entered our world of suffering, we are now offered this immeasurable consolation: God knows what it’s like. Jesus is described in Scripture as “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” And if you study his life, you will see this is so. Poor, homeless, and hated, with a tragic ending of betrayal, scourging, and cruelty of the cross. Jesus knew suffering like none before or after. I suppose you can say there are things he can’t relate to. He certainly never suffered through the disaster of a tornado. And yet while this is true, we can also say there is no degree of suffering he is unfamiliar with.

His crucifixion was the greatest suffering the world will ever know, considering not just the physical pain, but the spiritual punishment for the wrongs we have committed. So when it comes to the amount of suffering, Jesus suffers alone. Nobody can say to him, “I know what it’s like,” but this is precisely what he can say to every single one of us, no matter the pain. Simply put, Jesus suffered alone so that nobody would ever have to. 

When tragedy strikes, everyone wants answers, and there is nothing wrong with that. The Bible does have answers to offer, but its ultimate answer is that it’s not for us to know. When Ryan prayed during the postgame show, he said, “We don’t understand the path you’ve put before us.” That simple admission is a profoundly theological truth. Sometimes the only answer to the “why God” cry of the hurting is simply, we don’t know. 

But Christmas allows us to add a comforting nuance to that answer. A pastor named Tim Keller, whose work I strongly commend to you, likes to say that because God became one of us, we can now say, “I don’t know the meaning of suffering, but I know what it doesn’t mean.” It can’t be that God is detached and indifferent, it can’t be that God doesn’t love us or take our misery seriously, it can’t be that God is callously unmoved by our tragic stories—if God became like us, none of these things can be true. Rather, God loves us so much, he cares so deeply, he takes suffering so seriously, that he himself was willing to join us in it. Whatever God’s up to, he’s playing by the same rules.

I can’t imagine what our friends in Western Kentucky are going through right now, and to pretend otherwise would be insulting. But God does. Because of Christmas, our state is praying to a God who knows what it’s like. 

Robert Cunningham is the Senior Pastor at Tates Creek Presbyterian Church. You can follow him on Twitter at @tcpcrobert or reach out with comments or questions at [email protected]