Lemonade And Adversity

“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade” is cheerful, optimistic, positively oriented advice. When I’m feeling sour myself, though, it seems like naïve mockery.

Of course, you can take a wholesome fruit and make something better from it. Anything with a useful component can be used toward some benefit. Even a bag of manure will fertilize the roses.

But some adversity is harder to find any useful component in than a bag of lemons or even a nicely composted bag of manure from your favorite home and garden center.

Job And His “Comforters”

Consider Job. His “comforters” attempt to get him to confess the sins he must have committed.  According to their understanding, his sins must be the reason for his endless afflictions. In their view, Job’s afflictions are punishments and require him to acknowledge his sins and repent.

But Job refuses to repent for things for which he does not feel guilty.  He rebukes his accusers, and even challenges God directly to give a reason for his suffering.

On the surface, this seems as unlike making lemonade as it is possible to get.  Nor does Job begin to bag up the dung heap and sell it to rose gardeners.

To be precise, Job’s heap is often translated as “ashes,” meaning garbage, burnt dung, or some combination of all sorts of detritus. But the image of a dung heap – which is often composed of more than mere dung – is firmly established in art and to some extent in exegesis.

Job is also described as afflicted with sores which he scrapes with shards of broken pottery.  In the Septuagint, the connotation of the Greek used – ινα τον ιχωρα ξυη (Benson Commentary) – is to scrape away corruption.

One can hardly fault Job for not setting up a garden center or some prehistoric version of a recycling station.  His misery comes close to being all-consuming.

Glib Won’t Do

This is why the sometimes glib sound of making lemons into lemonade grates on my sensibilities.

Some friends of mine once gave birth to a child who soon began showing symptoms of a genetic condition that is uniformly fatal. Their baby lived for less than a year.

The consequences of the loss of their child reverberated down through the next four or five years. Eventually (I think) it led to the sundering of the relationship.  The dissolution that may have been inevitable in human terms came about with what was probably unnecessary pain, dishonesty, and dishonorable behavior.

And yet much of the turmoil surrounding that dissolution was due to unmanaged pain, unexpressed (and perhaps inexpressible, even unrecognizable) resentment. It culminated in the explosive release of years of denial on behalf of one of the partners.

Rotting lemons and worse piled on a steaming dung heap is not a starting place for optimistic nostrums. Had I pulled out the old ‘make lemonade’ saw to either of them when their situation was deteriorating day after day, I’d probably have deserved the pummeling I would likely have received.

What is important here is to distinguish between minor disappointments and real body blows . . . and to understand the difference between making something better and actual redemption.

One can improve on and enjoy a basket of sour lemons. Being thrown into the center of a maelstrom of grief and tragedy, injustice, and devastation is considerably less enjoyable.  But redemption is still possible.

What Cannot Be Improved May Be Redeemed

Redemption is not a simple idea. It has layers upon layers. For us as Christians, the cross is the center of the redemption of the world.

The Redemption process began most perceptibly with the Incarnation, continued through the Nativity and the years of Jesus’ ministry.  It culminated in His death, resurrection, and ascension into Heaven. Many see His return in Glory as the consummation of his work of redemption.

But I am still so overcome by the Resurrection that I have never been able to see into the future glory.  It also does not seem to be to be likely to happen in what is left of my lifetime.

However, that is another matter, for we need not wait for the final act of redemption, the triumphant return of our Savior.  Situations and circumstances that need redemption surround us and we can contribute to all of them.

Our small group of friends mustered all our resources to try and help with our friends’ failing marriage and failed. But people in that group have gone on to redemptive acts of sacrifice and compassion over the years which have succeeded.

Take On The Cost

To redeem something requires us to take on part of the cost. Shared suffering, sacrificial giving, and in particular acts of supererogation all require giving above and beyond what would ordinarily be expected.

Linguistically, in fact, redemption and supererogation go together.  To redeem is to pay the price in order to take something back.  And supererogation comes from the Latin supererogare, meaning “to pay out over and above.”

Which brings me back to lemons and lemonade. To be fair, to make lemonade we have to squeeze the lemons and add water and sugar. So there is something redemptive in that old saw after all.

Even so, I am more impressed with people who, when life hands them a disaster, manage to turn it into something beautiful and amazing. As, in fact, Job did when he stood up for truth and then bowed his head in obedience when God finally answered him from the storm.

Prayer

Lord, please teach us to meet adversity with humility and creativity, knowing that all that befalls us can be redeemed if we first turn to You and offer up our lives, ambitions, and fears. Amen.