M. Shawn Copeland, in Knowing Christ Crucified, explores spirituals, especially their perspective on the future. She writes this (159-160):
Marked as commodities, objects for purchase, the enslaved people sang themselves a new identity: “Born of God I know I am”; “Ah tol’ Jesus it would be alright, if he changed mah name.” Homeless, they sang themselves a lasting abode: “I got a home in that rock”; “Deep river, my home is over Jordan.” Caught in the futile future of slavery, they felt time anew: “I been in de storm so long”; “Soon-a will be done with the troubles of the world … Going home to live with God.” Freedom was both a spiritual and political destination, both a social and cultural event. If they could grasp a future at all, it was conceived and concretized as freedom. So the enslaved people sang: “Oh let us all from bondage flee … And let us all in Christ be free … We need not always weep and moan … And wear these slavery chains forlorn …”
We need not always weep and moan.
The spiritual became a way of reorienting themselves to the future. What felt like forever now, pain and suffering, was, in truth, only temporary.
This is Paul’s point in 2 Corinthians:
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Cor. 4:17 ESV)
Paul is not minimizing or dismissing his, or others’, pain. He’s trying to put it all in perspective. “Light” means “limited.” “Momentary” means “not long.” When eternity is brought to mind, suffering and pain are both: limited and not long. Loss and agony can feel all-consuming. They can take up our thoughts 24/7. We can experience them in ways that leave us feeling there’s nothing but pain. Yet, in truth, Paul notes, suffering is always limited and not long.
We need not always weep and moan.
This is part of what lies behind one of Jesus’ statements from the cross:
“It is finished” (Jn. 19:30)
This phrase can mean two things: 1) It has ended; and 2) It is accomplished.
Let’s consider the former: It has ended.
The clock, Jesus is saying, has finally run out on his crisis. All suffering has a finale. Every book of burdens has a closing chapter. No misery lasts forever. Even this, the worst suffering endured by any, has ended.
It’s easy to feel like the Covid-19 crisis has, and will, last forever. It’s impacted some of the most significant aspects of our lives. Closed our church buildings. Mangled our finances. Isolated us from loved ones. Threatened our very lives.
But one of the ways we flourish in hardship is by reminding ourselves and each other that there will come a day when we will say with Jesus: “It is finished.” This, even this, will come to an end.
We need not always weep and moan.
T. D. Jakes, in Crushing, writes this:
You’ve been down so long that you have promised yourself that you would never hope again. You’ve made up in your mind that you won’t dream again, and that you won’t believe God again, because you fear your heart being torn to pieces just like it was the last time it crossed your mind to anticipate and wish for something better. Your adversity has been with you for so long that you have begun to identify yourself by your pain and consider your dysfunction and distress as normal. But is that the to which God has called any of us? If you believe that it is, I wholeheartedly yell at you with the authority of the Holy Spirit: The devil is a liar! God never intended for your temporary to be your eternity.
Don’t confuse your temporary with your eternity.
