None of This is New

There is nothing new under the sun.” That’s what Ecclesiastes tells us, and I’ll be honest, it’s not always the most comforting line in scripture. Because if war isn’t new, if empire and exclusion and the crushing of the vulnerable aren’t new… then what hope do we have? If there’s nothing new under the sun, are we simply doomed to repeat this cycle again and again?

These last few weeks I’ve come to hear that verse differently. Not as fatalism. Not as despair. But as truth-telling. It’s the Bible’s way of saying: Don’t be surprised. Don’t be surprised when the powerful protect themselves at the expense of the poor. Don’t be surprised when systems grind people down. Don’t be surprised when truth gets twisted and compassion gets called weak.

This is not new. And neither is God’s response. Because from the very beginning, the God of scripture has been the one who hears the cry of the oppressed. Who brings water from a rock and bread from heaven. Who scatters the proud and lifts the lowly. Who breaks open tombs and sends frightened disciples out with fire on their heads and courage in their bones.

This is not new either. We are living in a time when the headlines seem unbearable. Wars rage. Families are ripped apart at borders. Trans youth are targeted. The LGBTQ+ community faces both legislative harm and physical violence. People with disabilities and the elderly live in fear as healthcare and social programs are chipped away. Gaza. Ukraine. Yemen. Sudan. Texas. Bakersfield. All of it.

It’s a lot. And in the face of all this, it can feel like we’re standing on the edge of something tipping over into either despair or transformation. And the truth is, we’ve stood on that edge before. So have the prophets. So did the early church. So did those who marched for civil rights, who cared for AIDS patients when no one else would, who stood against fascism, who fought to unionize fields and factories, who refused to give up on hope.

This, too, is part of the story. And so are you. Because God still moves. In grassroots organizers and brave parents. In protestors and peacemakers. In teachers and nurses and truth-tellers. In social workers and open and affirming churches. In people who dare to say, We will not give up on each other. We will not forget who we are. We will not stop loving.

None of this is new. But neither is God’s faithfulness. So Beloved, as the world keeps spinning and the news keeps breaking, I want to invite you to stay grounded in something older and deeper than fear. Stay grounded in Christ. In justice. In mercy. In the kind of hope that doesn’t depend on outcomes, but on presence. God is still speaking. Still calling. Still moving. Let’s keep listening.