“I trust that everything’s okay with you?”

Just between you and me, I hate that question.

It’s almost as thoughtless as the “How ya doin’?” question you get on the way into the convenience store from perfect strangers who have no intention of waiting to hear your answer.

Worse yet, “I trust that everything’s okay with you?” – usually spoken with more of an exclamation mark than a question mark – typically comes from our friends.

Our optimistic friends, to be exact. Our extreme optimistic friends, to be even more exact.  The kind who could fall off the top of the 100 story building and, while flying past an open 40^th floor window and seeing someone they know, would shout “Doing fine so far!”

The problem is that very few of us – or maybe none of us – could honestly say that “Everything is okay.” 

If you’re having a great day you probably don’t mind the question.  But if you’re having a normal day – and yes, I mean a normal day for a committed, born-again disciple of Jesus – a normal day normally involves a mixture of joys and sorrows. Right?  And if you’re more emotional than the average person, it’s a potent mixture of joys and sorrows.

On a normal day – not especially bad or especially wonderful – my heart has chambers that are pulsating with the brightest joys:  My position in Christ, Christ’s position in me, a warm house, friends all over the country wishing me a happy birthday or “congratulations on the new book,” hilarious grandsons, a great wife, several churches right here in this town that I’ve been able to serve, a comfortable chair, time in the Bible, a good strong cup of coffee.  I think you get the idea.

But there are other chambers of my heart that ache over the kinds of things that ought to make our hearts ache: the lost condition of most of the people I see, a nation which is drifting further and further from God, a worldly and sleepy American Church, loved ones who don’t know Christ, thousands of local congregations – which I would like to help – which are mired in mediocrity or disunity, too many old friends and relatives who are dying.   Again: I could go on and on, and so could you.

Curiously, like good things on the back of the stove or bad things slightly buried in the backyard, these mixed joys and sorrows all seem to intensify with age. Have you noticed?

So I could never say and I would never say that “Everything is okay” and I hope that’s okay, because I’m not going to cheapen my joys or sorrows with a cheesy, “Ya, fine.”

And this is the “Biblical” response.  Here’s what I mean.

The Savior who spoke about his joy in John 15:11 and John 17:13 was called “a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering” (Isaiah 53:3). He Himself spoke of His soul being “overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38).

The Apostle who spoke often of his joy and rejoicing (Romans 5:11, 15:32, II Corinthians 2:3, 7:4, Philippians 1:4, 2:17, I Thessalonians 3:9, Philemon 7) also said that the lost condition of his Jewish brethren (his relatives) caused “great sorrow and unceasing anguish” in his heart (Romans 9:2). Did you catch that?  “Great sorrow and unceasing anguish…”

And knowing we were going to join with the assembly of Christ-followers on Sunday morning, Paul urged us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15).  This challenge is especially acute for pastors, of course, who are supposed to be supremely talented at rejoicing and weeping, able to toggle between the two with the grace of a ballet dancer.

But the command was for all of us. Your own congregation, this Sunday, may well include those who are ecstatically happy and others experiencing the deepest sorrow they’ve ever known. None of these saints deserve “I trust that everything’s okay with you?”  Life is too meaningful for such cheap grace greetings.

There is much mystery here, but here’s what we know for sure:

• It’s okay to have a divided, confused heart. God does.  Apostles do.  We need all the joy we can get but we need our sorrows as well (Ecclesiastes 3:4 & 7:1-6).
• It’s not okay to expect friends and fellow disciples and neighbors and relatives and strangers at the gas station to have united, happy, always-fine hearts.
• God can sanctify to us our sorrows and joys and use both joy-producing and sorrow-producing events to make us more like himself: deep, wide, empathetic, joyful, peaceful, hopeful and kind. I’ll never say it as well as lyricist George Keith put it in “How Firm A Foundation” (italics added):

In ev’ry condition, in sickness, in health,
In poverty’s vale, or abounding in wealth,
At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea —
The Lord, the Almighty, your strength e’er shall be.

When through the deep waters I call you to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow,
For I will be with you your troubles to bless
And sanctify to you your deepest distress.

Throughout all their lifetime my people shall prove
My sov’reign, eternal, unchangeable love,
And then, when gray hair shall their temples adorn,
Like lambs they shall still on my shoulders be borne.