Why Plastic Christianity Doesn't Work In The Vale Of Tears

Text: John 16:16-22

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

You and I live in what the old Christians call the vale of tears. Yes, the vale of tears.  That is to say, we live in a valley of tears. From birth to the grave, you and I walk through a valley not of prosperity, but of pain. It is not lush green meadows with songbirds singing overhead, but a wilderness filled with thorns, shadows, and sorrow. Yes, we journey through life with aching joints, broken relationships, uncertain futures, dashed dreams, mental illness, financial hardships, loneliness, injustice, and death looming on the horizon.

Now, please understand, I am not being pessimistic.  This is reality. Again, this is not pessimism. It is not going the way of depression. It is honesty: life is tough because this world is marred by sin. Furthermore, Christ even said that life would be difficult. Jesus says in scripture:

“You will have tribulation… you will be hated by all for my name’s sake…”

But weren’t we told that life is supposed to be great as Christians? 

Dear friends, those who promise an easy prosperous life for Christians are not only seriously mistaken but dangerous. They are fools who do not know the Bible. They are wicked false teachers who deceive Christians. They are weak leaders who are afraid to acknowledge reality – the reality that the Christian life is not about health, wealth, or success – but rather it is about taking up the cross and following Jesus through the hardships of life. When these false teachers teach otherwise, it leaves Christians unprepared for the real life in a fallen and sinful world.

As you know, though, plastic Christianity can’t help you here.  It does work on the pretend mountain tops.  But in the vale of tears?  Nope; it doesn’t work. You know what I mean by this, don’t you? The fake smiles. The forced joy. The books and sermons that say, "If you just have enough faith, your life will be easy." That kind of crap doesn’t do anything to help you in this vale of tears. That kind of plastic Christianity peddled by pagans is a lie from the pit of hell. The reason being, again, Jesus does not promise ease. He promises Himself. He promises joy through sorrow, not instead of it.

So, let me say it bluntly: dear Christians, you will suffer. You will hurt. You will weep. Expect that to be true. Furthermore, know this: the world will dance while you mourn. But you are not abandoned. You are not without hope. You are not without joy. Because this valley—this vale of tears you walk through—is only for a little while.

Consider our reading from the Gospel of John. Jesus says in John chapter 16:

"A little while, and you will see me no longer... and again a little while, and you will see me."

Seven times Jesus says, "a little while." 

Now, Jesus speaks not in riddles but in reality. He tells the disciples plainly that sorrow is coming. He will go to the cross. He will be buried. They will mourn. They will weep while the world laughs and celebrates. In between His death and resurrection, they will experience pain, but again it will be only a little while, for soon He will rise again, and their mourning will turn to joy.

And you, dear Baptized Saints, you too are caught in the in-between. You are not at the foot of the cross, nor are you at your empty tomb at the great resurrection. You are in that "little while" – you are between Christ’s Ascension and His return at the great eschaton (the great Last Day). That "little while" is the same thing that we call the vale of tears. The little while is where tears fall. It's where you suffer. Where temptation gnaws, doubts stir, and your body grows frail. The little while is the season of childbirth pains, as Jesus describes — anguish before joy, groaning before laughter in this valley of life.

But keep in mind that the world denies suffering or tries to numb it. The voice of the pagan says, "Live your best life now." Remember that pagans demand comfort and run from death. They sees happiness in money, sex, entertainment, and distractions. But when suffering comes, the facade collapses. The pain breaks through and the pagan freaks out.

But you, dear Christian, you have been baptized into something greater. You do not belong to the pagan world, but you belong to Christ. You have a Savior who does not avoid suffering but enters into it — for you. And because of that, your pain is never meaningless. Your suffering is not eternal. It is just — a little while.

Let me give you some examples of how this works—practically speaking:

When you’ve lashed out in anger at your spouse or ignored the cries of your child. When you’ve returned to that same sin you swore last month you’d never do again. When you sit in your car, staring at the steering wheel, knowing full well what you did—and wondering if you’ve finally crossed the line with God. And then… You hear the voice of your pastor from Sunday’s Divine Service and breath a sigh of relief, 

“In the stead and by the command of Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

You see how that works - the absolution meets you in the valley of tears.  The hope of the Gospel invades the valley and sustains you for the little while.  

Another example: when the phone call comes in the middle of the night: a loved one is gone. Or the test result isn’t what you hoped. The depression that’s been lingering at the edge of your mind finally grabs hold, and it feels like you’re drowning. When all this happens and you drag yourself out of bed to come to church anyway, because there’s nowhere else to go. And when you kneel at the rail - silent, heavy, numb - and see the pastor lift the bread and wine up before you: 

“Take and eat, this is the true body of Christ, given for you.”

“Take and drink, this is the true blood of Christ, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.”

Right there in that moment, Christ feeds you with His very life. The veil between heaven and earth thins for a moment, and you are joined to Christ – knowing that you are not alone in the vale of tears.  That you have a place at the Lord’s Table.

When you are scrolling through social media late at night, wondering why everyone else seems more successful, more attractive, more spiritual. Or perhaps you're at your job, feeling like a failure. And then, several days later, in the liturgy at church, you trace the sign of the cross over your body — the same cross that was made on your forehead and heart at your Baptism. And in that moment, you are are brought to the remembrance that you belong to Christ – you were buried with Christ. You were raised with Christ in baptism. Right there, amid all the uncertainties from the vale of tears, you remember that your identity isn’t based on your productivity or piety. It’s anchored in the Triune Name placed upon you in Holy Baptism. And that knowledge steadies you. It gives you certainty in this uncertain world.  

Baptized Saints, these gifts are your assurance and joy in this vale of tears. They are a foretaste of the feast to come. These gifts pierce into the sorrow. They point forward to the day when the clouds will lift, the trumpet will sound, and the tombs will open.  Then on that day, you will see Jesus face to face. This is why we can say that this vale of tears is just a little while.  

Baptized Saints, you are not called to escape the vale of tears, but to endure it. Not with despair, but with faith. You live now in the tension of the "little while." You are sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. You mourn, but not as those who have no hope. You suffer, but your suffering has an expiration date. Do not forget, Christ holds the beginning and the end.

So, when life bears down on you, make the sign of the cross and whisper it: a little while.

When the tears won't stop, say it through the sobs: a little while.

When the grave seems to win, shout back at it: only a little while!

And in that little while, Christ sustains you.

Baptized Saints, cling to Christ, not to the valley.

Cling to the promises of His Word. Hold fast to the Gospel. Come to the altar, receive the Sacrament. Be surrounded by the fellowship of the baptized. Do not let go of what is real for the sake of the illusions this pagan world sells you.

There is no utopia in this life; that is a pagan dream. There is no escaping suffering. But there is Christ. And He is enough. He is your strength. He is your forgiveness. He is your hope. And He is your joy. Not just at the end of the little while, but even now, in the midst of it.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.