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  • Writer's pictureAndrew Comiskey

Foot Washing: Good Grief

‘I will pour out on you a spirit of grace and supplication…

We will look upon the One we have pierced and will mourn as one grieves for an only child…

On that day, I’ll open a fountain to cleanse you from sin and impurity;

on that day, I’ll banish the idols from the land…

On that day, I’ll remove both the prophets and the spirit of impurity from the land…

On that day, every prophet will be ashamed of his prophetic vision.

He will say, “I am not a prophet, I am a farmer.”

When asked about the wounds on his body, he will answer:

“These wounds I was given at the house of my friends’ (Zechariah 12:10-13:6).

‘I cry because you won’t.’ St. Jean Vianney


Friend Carol studied voice at a large university where she sang in an ensemble; she was surrounded by a handful of ‘gay’-identified men, out and proud. What first struck her as funny became catty and unclean and demeaning of women. After a long rehearsal, she burst out crying. Her tears became the only prayer she could make for these men whom she loved but whose sin hurt her and the God she worships.

Sin makes us poor; it invites us before the One we pierced. Somehow, He ‘who is familiar with sorrow’ releases ours (Is. 53:3). Tears ensue. Grief is a normal response to loss: in this case, a loss of innocence, of purity, of clarity.


We no longer know who we are, sexually speaking. Our loved ones morph into new couplings and identity configurations. Destabilized, we are then derided for ‘antiquated’ virtues like chastity and sexual clarity. When words fail, we look upon the One we pierced in our ‘sin-sickness.’ We weep because they won’t.


I weep more than normal these days. I love my neighbors and always look for chances to encourage them in Christ. Those I know are unchaste: out of one marriage and into another or just shacking up. A few neighbors fly rainbow flags; one female couple is raising a boy as non-binary. These are well-intentioned people who have lost their way. I grieve for their wandering, their loss of clarity.


I grieve more for the Church that sends my neighbors confusing signals.  Maybe she fails to live her truth, which weakens the capacity of the faithful to aspire to chastity, e.g. the impact of Mike Bickle.


Or maybe she uses her orthodoxy as a ‘come-on’, asserting the truth then applying that truth in a way that is confusing, unhelpful, and devoid of hope for real integration. I refer to the incomprehensible ‘blessing’ of immoral couplings framed by Fiducia Supplicans but also to Revoice and Preston Sprinkle. The latter two insist on biblical sexual ethics then make allowances for all kinds of queer configurations in Jesus’ name and house.


It is nothing short of the ‘queering’ of Christianity, and ‘progressive’ evangelicals are eating it up.  


Look upon the One that we have pierced—God’s perfect image in humanity—and weep over our loss of that Image and its redemption.


It is not enough to grieve for ourselves. Yes, we may be personally wounded by the sins of others. But we must grow beyond our loss to what is at stake for the family member or friend or neighbor. This Lent, might we allow the Spirit to supersede personal loss with the losses impacting others, our world, and our Church today?


I am convinced that our sincere grief over today’s sexual confusion will keep our hearts free from despair and hardness, free for Jesus. We need intimate dependence—joining our brokenness to His—in order to move in step with Him. He is gathering an army who will collaborate with Him in the saving of many lives.          

Join Andrew on Desert Streaming each week as he dives deeper into his blog. Watch here or listen on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.


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