All Shall Be Well
JUSTIN CAMP
5 min read ⭑
I became a teenager in 1985. Michael Jordan was Rookie of the Year. Mikhail Gorbachev and Microsoft Windows were rookies, too. There was Live Aid and New Coke. Nintendo and Blockbuster. My friends and I rode skateboards and BMX bikes everywhere and played a ton of football. We watched MTV, made mixtapes and listened to U2 and Tom Petty on Sony Walkmans. We hung out at Pacific Steamer, eating slices and sliding quarters into old-school arcade games, and at Century 16, watching The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller and Die Hard in the dark.
I also got into a fair amount of trouble. My mom had been diagnosed with cancer the year before. And not knowing how to deal with the ensuing fear and grief and just wanting to be normal, I didn’t tell my friends what was going on until right before she died nine years later. So, all those emotions and reactions manifested as bad grades, fist fights and lots of Saturday school.
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Looking back, I was seemingly always in some sort of tight spot — waiting for how bad the grade would turn out or how severe the vice principal’s punishment would be. And even though my father fit the stressed-out-engineer, angry-kinda-scary 80s-dad trope, he had some totally glorious moments, too. Like whenever he would sense unhealthy levels of worry in his son and would lean in, catch my eye, and say …
“You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?”
And I always knew what he meant. More macro than micro, looking beyond the particular moment, his “all” meant everything. He meant whatever circumstances were racking my heart would pass, for sure. But more than that, he meant everything would.
Those eleven words, delivered in that divine order, were always the gifts I needed — because I never knew their message was true until he uttered it.
But then I knew.
It was Julian of Norwich, a 14th-century mystic widely considered to be among the most important medieval Christian writers, who got me thinking about my dad and my teenage years. Julian lived from approximately 1342 to 1416, spending her later life in seclusion in a cell attached to St. Julian’s Church in Norwich, England.
She was six years old when the bacterium that causes the bubonic plague arrived on English shores. By the autumn of that year, the plague had reached London, and by the summer of 1349, it had spread throughout all of Britannia. The pandemic began to subside by December 1349 but ravaged the country again in the early 1360s.
The Black Death killed an estimated 40-60% of England’s 14th-century population, and the psychological and societal impacts for suvivors were profound. Julian was one of the fortunate few who avoided the gruesome disease. But then, in 1373, she contracted a different one, perhaps botulism or pneumonia, and fell gravely ill.
A parish priest placed a crucifix before her to comfort her during what he thought were probably her last moments. And then, while gazing upon that crucifix, Julian experienced a series of visions. There were 16 in all, occurring over two days, all focused on Jesus’ suffering and sacrifice — and the immensity of God’s love.
When she recovered, she wrote “Revelations of Divine Love,” perhaps the earliest book written by a woman in the English language. In it, she offered these famous words: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” That’s what she sensed God saying to her as she lay suffering, reassuring her (and us) of his abiding and overwhelming love and reminding us that despite the tests and troubles of our lives, his great love will bring about the restoration of all things.
As I write, U.S. financial markets are showing historic losses. They will rebound, no doubt. But these are nervous days. Wars and threats of more. Assassinations and assassination attempts. Governmental scheming and political finger-pointing. Inflation and potential recession. Pessimism and cynicism and resignation are running rampant, even among Christians. I mean, based on conversations and speeches and what leaders write, very few of us seem to believe everything will be well. There are so many prognostications about the imminent doom of our country, our culture and the entire world.
What we need right now is reassurance. And if we’re willing to be silent for even a moment or two, the King of Kings will give us just that. Jesus will whisper reassurance through Scripture. The phrase “Do not fear” and its variants, such as “fear not” and “do not be afraid,” appear more than 100 times in the Bible. Jesus will whisper reassurance through the mystics — Julian of Norwich, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Ávila, John of the Cross, Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr and John Eldredge. And Jesus will whisper reassurance straight to our hearts, too.
“You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?”
Over the past four decades, whenever my father has said those words to me, it was actually and always his message. Jesus simply chose my dad as the person who could deliver it to me most credibly. And Jesus whispers that message to me still, still through my dad sometimes but through my wife, too. And in times of silent prayer. And sometimes through a sermon. And oftentimes through the lyrics of a song.
“You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?”
He whispered that message when our first son, Jackson, was born, and I worried about my readiness as a father. Then again, when I was leaving behind a career in finance and going into full-time ministry, anxious about how I would provide for a family of five. Then again, just the other day, as our daughter (our youngest) prepares to head off to college — catapulting Jennifer and me into a whole new season.
“You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?”
But, here’s what I want you to hear right now:
My friend, my friend, this message is for you today. You can trust that God’s love will set everything right — everything that’s gone wrong in the world. Every hurt. Every injustice. Every mistake. Every sin. Every aching heart. Every broken life.
Redeemed. Completely. Forever. And soon.
Jesus is busy at work in this world and your life … and he’s got this.
“Your tension goes down when you know the end of the story. When you don’t have to wonder if things will turn out badly, it affects your perspective and your attitude.”
—Rick Warren
You and I do know how the story ends: Jesus triumphs and love wins. So, take a deep breath today and ask yourself, ‘Will I try to let this ultimate truth set my perspective, determine my attitudes, govern my actions and drive my decisions?’
Will you? Even when things get tough?
“You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?”
Justin Camp is the editor-in-chief of Rapt Interviews. He also created the WiRE for Men devotional and wrote the WiRE Series for Men. His writing has also been featured and seen on Charisma, Moody Radio, Focus on the Family, GOD TV, The Christian Post, Crosswalk, Belief.net, LifeWay Men and other media outlets.