Disaster Spirituality

Disaster Spirituality November 6, 2022

Léon Bonnat (1833–1922), “Christ on the Cross,” circa 1874, Musée du Petit Palais {{PD-US-expired}}; Wikimedia

This blog post is about disaster spirituality, which is not the same thing as disastrous spirituality. The thrust of this reflection is that we should never let a personal or interpersonal crisis go to waste. How do we respond or react to personal disasters?

Winston Churchill may have been the first to utter the words, “Never let a good crisis go to waste.” Thought leaders and media personalities across the spectrum have also employed similar language both to promote or discredit political and economic strategies and policies over the years. I am not using this phrase for anything other than personal and interpersonal reasons. In short, I do not want to waste a crisis. Rather, I want to work through grief to grasp the tragedy and make it serve as an opportunity for holistic personal and spiritual growth. Unless I cultivate a disaster spirituality mindset, I will fall prey to disastrous spirituality.

What do disaster spirituality and disastrous spirituality look like?

Disaster spirituality does not try to put a positive spin on misfortune and calamity. However, disaster spirituality never sees such misfortune and calamity as the last word either. Rather than foster hype or hopelessness, disaster spirituality prays to discern how God is at work to bring good out of evil. Disastrous spirituality, on the other hand, discounts or minimizes the suffering, trauma, and evil, or allows it to have the last word or laugh.

The Apostle Paul does not laugh off suffering. Nor does he give way to total despair. He and the Christian movement that he helped lead faced all kinds of challenges, including incredible suffering and trauma. But he exhorted his fellow believers in various contexts to keep going in view of their founding hope. He puts it best in 1 Corinthians 15, as he encourages fellow believers to press on in the Christian faith:

I declare to you, brothers and sisters, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. (1 Corinthians 15:50-58; NIV)

The Christian faith was born out of great suffering and trauma, as it was grounded in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. However, the fledgling movement constructed meaning that reframed the humiliating and shameful event of the cross in view of Jewish prophetic and apocalyptic literature. Their divinely inspired and human-shaped construction of meaning culminated in the resurrection, ascension, and return of Jesus (Paul himself draws from prior Jewish prophetic literature in the Corinthian passage quoted above, namely, Isaiah and Hosea).

Like Paul, what kind of meaning do we construct, built on inspirational persons, events, and words from the past and present who endured great suffering and trauma, that move us forward to take hold of the future with holy resilience?

The Jewish faith and Christian faith were born out of disaster and trauma, a point made by David Carr in his book, Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins. While trauma is destructive, it can serve as a catalyst to form, reform, and confirm meaning that provides newfound hope (Refer here).

In my own family’s personal lives, we have endured much suffering and trauma since my adult son Christopher’s devastating brain injury in January 2021. We do not try and sugarcoat the tragedy or throw in the towel but keep going. I am grateful for those who have gone before us in Scripture and in our Christian heritage, who did not let the crisis go to waste or waste them. Moreover, we have been grateful for how countless people from across the religious and cultural spectrum have modeled resilience amid their own significant struggles, and for those who have prayed and supported us in so many ways. If it weren’t for the source of my faith and so many people’s faithfulness, as well as my slowly growing sense of the need to form a disaster spirituality, my spirituality would prove disastrous now.

To be quite honest with you, I am starting to get frustrated with myself on those occasions when I gripe and complain and give way to the threat of despair in dealing with the relentless struggle and wide-reaching aftermath of my son’s global brain injury. I can’t afford to waste this crisis. Otherwise, no good will come of it. What a disaster that would be.

About Paul Louis Metzger
Paul Louis Metzger, Ph.D., is Professor of Theology & Culture, Multnomah University & Seminary; Director of The Institute for Cultural Engagement: New Wine, New Wineskins; and Author and Editor of numerous works, including Beatitudes, Not Platitudes: Jesus' Invitation to the Good Life and Cultural Encounters: A Journal for the Theology of Culture. You can read more about the author here.

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