“Any song that makes you think you’re born to lose, bound to lose, no good to nobody, songs that run you down or poke fun at you because of your bad luck or hard travelin’, I’m out to fight these songs to my very last breath of air, to my last drop of blood. I’m out to sing the songs that will prove to you that this is your world, no matter what color, what size you are or how you were built.” — Woody Guthrie

I never thought I’d be naming Woody Guthrie my theologian of the week. I never thought that crusty folk singer would put me in mind of the hope Christ came to bring. But today he reminded me of how tired I am of fear-based and hope-bereft theology. Somebody gave Eeyore the microphone, and it’s time to take it away.

This past Sunday during church I happened to be in a position to watch people’s faces while a women’s ensemble sang Nicole C. Mullens’ “Call on Jesus.” Our preacher (who this week was Orangewood Presbyterian’s much loved founding pastor, Chuck Green) had just challenged the congregation to consider the way the Lord had responded when Elijah called to him (contrary to the Baals who were apparently unable or unwilling to respond to their 450 prophets — see 1 Kings 18).

The song was rendered in solo/ensemble fashion, and we hadn’t distributed nor were we projecting the lyrics. I thought we’d surely field complaints about lack of visual support for the song’s text. Curiously though, I watched tearful faces silently mouthing the words, “When I call on Jesus all things are possible.” I was reminded both how desperately we need to know that hope, and how magnificently true it is.

Our God is not like the Baals. He’s not too busy. He’s not going to the bathroom (for which the Bible’s “turning aside” is a euphemism). He’s not on a journey. Not asleep and in need of awakening (see 1Kg 18:27).

Well, correct that: in fact, he did busy himself — thus, Jesus Christ stood before his friend Lazarus’ tomb and “stirred himself” (Jn 11:33). Coming as one of us, he experienced all of what it means to be a human — and that’s got to include “turning aside.” He undertook the most momentous of journeys, as Richard Baxter penned, “from heaven to earth, from earth to the cross, from the cross to the grave, from the grave to glory.” As a result, Paul notes, the risen God-man now sings his all-conquering love all around the world (Romans 15:9).

What Guthrie’s lines put me in mind of is how profoundly the song of the reality of Christ’s resurrection drowns out the nay-saying Eeyore songs. The songs that run, “Lord, have mercy … even though I know you never will.” It’s time to lose the “you’re born to lose, bound to lose, good to nobody” defeatism. It’s time to refuse the voices that bring only condemnation. Whether it’s the internal voice of self-condemnation: “I blew it so bad this time, he’ll take me back.”

Or the voices whose “Onward Christian Soldiers” is but a veiled carping against others in the camp: “You’re so concerned to stress that Jesus died for individuals, you’ve lost his vision for the church. You’ve lost the gospel.” Or the converse: “You’re so focused on the institutional church, you’re robbing true believers of their individual assurance of salvation and simultaneously offering nominal believers a false assurance. You’ve lost the gospel.”

Hello. The gospel is that Christ died for our sins according to Scripture … and rose to make all things new. New hearts and a new creation. Each and all. Somebody take Eeyore’s microphone and give it to Woody.