The news this week has been especially heavy.
I was heartbroken by the shooting of Charlie Kirk. Even though I didn’t always agree with his approach, I respected him immensely for his incredible gift for organizing people and sparking dialogue and debate. I was also struck by the fact that he was only 31 years old and leaves behind two beautiful daughters. I pray for them and for his wife.
The horrific video of the stabbing of Iryna Zarutska was similarly devastating. The inhumanity of the killer and the indifference of bystanders are sickening. And there are many other stories that weigh us down with sorrow. In moments like these, I’m reminded of the description of the world in the time of Noah: “The wickedness of man was great on the earth, and every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” (Genesis 6:5).
One of the things that continually draws me to Christianity is that it best explains both the brokenness of the world and our deep sense that things are not meant to be this way. In tragedy, we feel in our bones and our souls that this is wrong—that the world is not as it should be. Yet we are powerless to change it. The darkness is not just “out there” in the world; it lies deep within us.
The Christian message affirms that sorrow and despair are real and right responses to a fallen world. Things truly are dark. And by our own strength, we cannot fix what is broken.
Yet we can also have great hope.
One of the most powerful biblical scenes is found in Revelation 4–5. John the Revelator sees a vision of heaven where angels and elders worship God on his throne. He then beholds a scroll sealed with seven seals, representing God’s decree and the unfolding of human history.
John observes that “no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it.” He weeps and weeps “because no one was found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside.” That is how I feel on days like today. If it were up to us to redeem this fallen world and bring about God’s purposes, we would be utterly hopeless. None of us is worthy—and the daily news makes that plain.
But what John sees next is breathtaking: “Then one of the elders said to me, ‘Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.’” Yet instead of a lion, John sees “a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain.”
This is the incredible message at the heart of the Gospel. God saw our sin and brokenness and entered our story. He came not as a lion, but as a slain Lamb. By his blood he redeemed us. This is echoed in the song of the elders:
“You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
because you were slain,
and with your blood you purchased for God
persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.
You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
and they will reign on the earth.”
Then thousands of angels lift their voices:
“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
and honor and glory and praise!”
On days like today, we rest in the truth that there is one who is worthy to redeem us. He is in charge. His kingdom is spreading on the earth. And he is redeeming for himself a people purchased by his blood.
Charlie Kirk had great faith in that Redeemer and often testified of him. And so I have no doubt that he is now at rest in the arms of his loving Savior. May we likewise trust in the Lamb who was slain for us—and be saved.