The title of a critically praised movie from a couple of years ago, All Is Lost, might seem a fitting summary of human experience at times. What a reliable theme loss is—for screenwriters and poets, reporters and politicians. Loss of joy, promise, innocence, wealth, peace of mind, life, freedom—so pervasive are these themes that loss almost seems the defining characteristic of what it means to be human. It may feel as though loss is a universal, irresistible force.
It’s no wonder we feel our heart lifted at moments when we witness how little it sometimes takes to elevate so bleak an outlook. A scarlet cardinal catching our peripheral vision, a loved pet greeting us with irrepressible enthusiasm, a resistless impulsion to lend a hand to a neighbor or pray for a friend even though our own to-do list may feel daunting—at moments like these we find ourselves responding without reservation. We don’t have to talk ourselves into knowing that something genuine, however modest, is taking place, something broader and more permanent than a passing distraction. Even the recollection of such moments has power to challenge a sense of decline and loss.
The Bible overflows with such moments. It is peopled with those who, like Moses glimpsing the bush burning but not consumed, “turned aside to see” (Exodus 3:4). For Moses, this simple turning was a crucial step toward a radically new view of himself and his people—no longer destined for slavery, but free and noble, servants of Almighty God. Or think of Hagar with her child, Abraham’s son, alone and without water in the wilderness. She heeded the voice of her preserving God, and saw a well of water right where she was. Right where all had seemed lost, Hagar caught a first clear glimpse that her child’s life was not precarious and second-class but destined to bring forward “a great nation” of historic scope (see Genesis 21:14–19).
