I hope this issue gives you hope.
But I want to give a disclaimer.
I don’t want you to think that the destination of hope indicates a pleasant road ahead. The journey toward hope is often bumpy, and we tend to find hope along these unexpected paths of grief that we’re forced to travel.
I use the word along intentionally because so often we’re led to believe that joy comes after grief. But grief is always fresh—especially for those of us in ministry. We know what it is to suffer vigorously in our own lives, and we also know the unique burden that comes from suffering vicariously as our shoulders are forced to hold the tears and the losses of other’s infertility, infidelity, miscarriages, and funerals.
As these hard days swell into harder years, it becomes clear that sorrow, hurt, and grief are like waves on the beach. As one subsides, another one rises and makes its way to our feet. In this we learn two things: The griefs keep coming, and those that have already come have a knack for sticking around.
Grief doesn’t have an expiration date.
If we’re waiting on some end to the suffering, we’re missing out on so much of the joy that comes along the way. When a small group of us started a church almost a decade ago, we prayed that God would knit our hearts together as a family. We set out to do this work, and we knew that with this small group, we needed to be close. And we were shocked at the ways he did that.
In the first year of our church plant, over and over again, we attended the funeral of a loved one, a brother or sister, a close friend, family member, or somebody who was a part of our church.
These losses came like waves, and we thought the sorrow would drown us. But in that tumultuous time, the sorrow reminded us that if we were going to stay afloat, we had to cling to one another.
God did answer our prayer and knit our hearts together as family—by allowing us to mourn and weep together. And it’s produced a depth of relationships. It’s produced resilience and perseverance. It’s produced a deep and abiding joy that isn’t blinded by life’s shallow substitutes.
It’s convinced me that grief and joy aren’t parallel streets that require us to exit grief to reach joy. In reality, grief and suffering and hope and joy are all winding roads that intersect in the most unexpected places.
I hope that this special issue is that place for you. I hope that in these pages you find some points of divine intersection. I hope you’re reminded that joy doesn’t come after grief but is found all along it.
Tragedy doesn’t ruin us. Hopelessness does.
My prayer is the following pages help you to hold on to hope.
Peace,
John Onwuchekwa
John Onwuchekwa—theologian, entrepreneur, and community champion—has joined Christianity Today as the director of leadership resources. John’s passion lies in empowering Black and Brown communities and nurturing diverse churches, all while working to elevate underrepresented voices and foster church growth and spiritual engagement. In his new role, John aims to infuse his academic research, pastoral insights, and entrepreneurial spirit into developing resources and strategies that support and energize church leaders across cultural and denominational backgrounds. His commitment to authentic ministry and practical wisdom makes him an invaluable asset to the CT Pastors community.
