Yeah, your wounds are where the light shines through
So let's go there, to that place where
We sing these broken prayers where the light shines through--
The wound is where the light shines through
Yeah, the wound is where the light shines through."
Life is hard. Incredibly hard.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention* concluded that 4 out of 10 teenagers in America describe themselves as "persistently sad" or "hopeless". More than 20% of kids aged 12-17 reported having a "major depressive episode" and just under 20% of high school students seriously considered attempting suicide; note that this last number does not include the numbers who had attempted and/or had tragically died by suicide.
These numbers scream for attention and action. And, while these statistics shock, most of the information collected for these students occurred between 2013 - 2019.
The past two years have taxed us in myriad ways; however, we had a mental health crisis - and one that affected our children - even before the pandemic.
We are not okay.
I am not okay.
No one is. This isn't meant to dismiss the seriousness of the stats above. I'm not advocating a "toughen up" approach nor do I buy into the adage of some, "I experienced even harder times and I turned out fine!"
Professional athletes have helped to normalize the need for us to admit that we're not okay. However much those of us on the sidelines might note that the pressure comes with the paycheck, the platform possessed by these stars has offered a megaphone and an example in regard to admitting our brokenness and asking for help.
In this way, a dire need exists for whole communities to work together - families, schools, healthcare systems, tech companies, media, employers, government services, churches, teams - for us to preference the mental, emotional, and spiritual health of our children and of us all.
As we continue to emerge from the pandemic and inch closer to returning to normalcy, let us consider whether or not we want to return to the way things were. Much like the apostles who left the upper room filled with the peace, joy, and hope of the Resurrection and reentered society as new creatures in the Holy Spirit, may we have the courage to be different than we were before retreating to our upper rooms two years ago.
And, like Thomas, whose despair over the death of Christ transformed to faith as he touched the wounds of Christ's resurrected body, let us have the courage to name our wounds, the vulnerability to invite others - especially Christ - into their depths, and the humility to both accept our wounds and allow Christ's light to shine through them.
Thomas could have kept his hurt to himself. Thomas could have stayed away from the community. Thomas could have rejected the hand of Christ and remain unchanged by the power of the Resurrection.
Instead, Thomas embraced the title, "Doubting." As depicted by Caravaggio's painting of the scene (below), imagine how many of the other apostles' faith got an assist from Thomas's incredulity. Perhaps they had similar doubts. Perhaps they remained hesitant to fully embrace Christ's wounds along with His resurrection. Perhaps they came to a deeper faith in Christ because of Thomas's willingness to share his wound out loud.
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| Caravaggio - The Incredulity of Saint Thomas |
None of us are okay. But, our wounds can be where the light shines through.
The light of faith.
The light of community.
The light of Christ.
The light of Christ in us.
May we, all of us, let it shine. As we do, we might liberate others to do the same.
*https://www.cdc.gov/childrensmentalhealth/features/understanding-public-health-concern.html
