The whiplash of experiences in this blur of a cultural moment is such that we become numb to both its heights and depths. (One could argue that this is a strategic aim for certain parties in the cultural and actual wars we find ourselves in the midst of, but I digress). Catching up with a podcast the other day, I laughed at the all-too common chatter of the Australian hosts bemoaning how recapping January felt like an entire year’s worth of news. Our local friend group in Jeffreys Bay, South Africa, has similarly shared all the same memes in our Whatsapp group chat, and feel like we could repeat them weekly ad nauseam at this point in time. 

I am tired. You are weary. Aren’t we collectively exhausted with the heaviness and grief of it all?

Finishing this short piece the afternoon after a fragile two-week ceasefire was triumphantly announced last night in the egregious, horrific, evil, and unnecessary war in Iran, coming fast on the heels of the jubilant, genuinely awe-inspiring images taken by the crew of Artemis II as they orbit the far side of the moon, I shake my head once more. What is going on in the world in this moment, and how am I to respond as a weary follower of Jesus? 

How am I to take it all in (gestures wildly around at, well, everything!) when the Way of Jesus is being co-opted as a tool of empire, for the systemic, violent oppression of the marginalized? 

A few weeks ago, I chose to move my body as an agent against the stasis I felt creeping in, lacing up my shoes to go for a run. I am training for my ninth half marathon, and the training cycle doesn’t stop even when I’d like it to. Tapping on my music app, I remember that my favorite band from college, U2 (I’m dating myself, I am well aware!), surprised dropped a new EP, Days of Ash, on Ash Wednesday. Each song tells the story of a current crisis in the world through the lyrics and sound of a band that has been doing this very thing since the early 1980s. As I listened, feet pounding the pavement, I found my pulse quickening and my pace accelerating. 

Awakened from the chaotic, numbing despair of these dark days by The Edge’s soaring guitar and the timeless sound of Bono’s voice, U2 reminded me that protest takes the form of a song, sung in righteous defiance by the oppressed, raising their voices in unison, straining for a freedom that is just around the corner, even if it feels much further off. 

The culminating track, “Yours Eternally,” is a protest letter of sorts, written about the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine, sung in unity by Bono, Ed Sheeran, and Ukrainian singer Taras Topolia. The lyrics stopped me in my tracks, and gave melodic voice to the suffering I have witnessed our world carrying right now:

“Don’t sleep; Don’t even think about it. 

No need, maybe a little bit. 

Still dream, about wakin’ up free, as we can be.”

(U2, “Yours Eternally,” Days of Ash EP, released on Ash Wednesday 2026)

Goosebumps raised on my arms as chills tingled down my spine. I had to stop running. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I dared to remember that God is still at work in the world. If brokenness and systemic evil remains all around us, then the regenerative, good work of the Kingdom of Love must not be complete.

God is not finished yet.¹See Philippians 1:6.

God has not yet declared to Creation that ‘You are finished,’ even though several millennia ago, a Suffering Servant²See Isaiah 53:1-12. did gasp that ‘It is finished.’ ³See John 19:30.

God has not set down God’s own redemptive work, echoing the original Creation refrain that “It is very good,”⁴See Genesis 1:31. even though nothing looks good right now.

But ‘One Day’ God will declare this,⁵See Revelation 22:12-13. and will mean it with every fibre of God’s own self. 

And so I remember: 

Protest takes the form of a song, sung in righteous defiance by the oppressed, raising their voices in unison, straining for a freedom that is just around the corner, even if it feels much further off. 

I lift my head, open my mouth, and begin to sing once more.

///