The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.
The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;
the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl,
and strips the forest bare;
and strips the forest bare;
and in his temple all say, “Glory!”
—Psalm 29:7-9
Mere days after wildfires ravaged Jasper, Alberta, my family and I were getting ready to attend a Kuipers family reunion at my sister’s cottage near Golden, BC. Golden was under an evacuation alert at that time too. Fortunately, the winds changed, the temperature cooled, and we were able to go ahead with our much-anticipated visit.
At a bookstore in Golden, on a hazy day choked by smoke from the surrounding fires, I chanced upon a book by the musician Nick Cave, a long form interview with his friend Seán O’Hagen entitled Faith, Hope, and Carnage. What an apt title, I thought, and bought the book. While this book is many things, it is also a moving testimony to Cave’s Christian faith, a hard-won faith, born of suffering, in a God who, hovering over the roiling and dangerous possibilities of the fathomless deep, yet considered it well worth the risk to plunge into that abyss and transform its sheer possibility into a liveable cosmos, a wild world for God to love and for all God’s creatures to frolic.
But the history of this cosmos of proliferating possibility is also a history of carnage. In this world, taking up the joyful gift of life also means accepting the inevitability of suffering and grief. It’s part of the deal. The wild God blew a hole through Nick Cave’s life when he lost his teenage son Arthur in 2015. Instead of turning inward, however, Cave decided to work through his grief publicly, through his music and writing, in the hope that sharing his story might help others enduring similar pain.
Surprisingly, in the bowels of his pain and suffering, Cave discovered in himself and other grievers an emerging zeal, “an audacity in the face of things, a kind of reckless refusal to submit to the condition of this world.” (159). Simply sharing his grief, he noticed, also created the possibility for people to show him their care, offering small, loving touches and gestures that helped carry him and his wife Susie through their grief, leading him to draw the following incredible conclusion:
…I came to the conclusion that the world wasn’t bad, at all—in fact, what we think of as bad, or as sin, is actually suffering. And that the world is not animated by evil, as we are so often told, but by love, and that, despite the suffering of the world, or maybe in defiance of it, people mostly just cared. Susie and I instinctively understood that we needed to move towards this loving force, or perish. (170)
There is a deep message in Cave’s journey through the work of mourning—a journey from carnage to, dare I say, glory. His moving story of opening himself up to receiving a loving, albeit wild force amid his suffering, indeed a force that carried him through his suffering, will stay with me for a long time. It is a message well worth pondering at the start of a new school year, as we help students engage the pieces of our Maker’s wild, broken creation, and encourage them to discern the different, surprising ways these scattered shards can be put back together again.
Shalom, friends
Ron Kuipers
