Why "We're All in This Together" Isn't Enough

You’ve read it on billboards; you’ve heard it from celebrities; you’ve seen it painted on the windows of local businesses. It’s the hallmark sentiment of 2020: “We’re all in this together.”

This past year was inescapably brutal – yet, nevertheless, leaves us all needing to say something in terms of comfort and encouragement – something other than the run-of-the-mill commentary on how brutal 2020 has been. And for millions, that ‘something’ is “We’re all in this together. We faced 2020 together, and we’ll face 2021 together, too! Whatever comes our way, we’ll tough it out together and together we’ll get through it! We’re all in this together!”  

Sound familiar? And maybe you’ve even said things like this. And I think the folks who say it mean well. They’re trying to comfort and encourage neighbors, friends, and family who are struggling and suffering.

But how encouraging, how comforting are expressions like “We’re all in this together”?

How much “togetherness” did you feel this past year?

Distanced and Divided

We spent the last nine months trying to get together but not really being able to get together. And even if we did get ‘together’, there was always a mask between us. No hugs. No handshakes. Doing that for nine months makes a six-foot distance feel like six miles - and then we were told that six feet might not be distant enough. We distanced ourselves from friends. We distanced ourselves from family. We didn’t see family for Easter. We didn’t see family for Thanksgiving. We didn’t see family for Christmas. And we didn’t get together to celebrate the new year.

But we’re not just distanced; we’re divided. We were divided over elections. We were divided over election results. We were divided over advocation for police reform. We were divided over racial reconciliation. We were divided over tactics of how best to make one’s voice heard. We were divided over pandemic statistics. We were divided over strategies to curb the spread. We were divided over whether to keep our doors open or keep them closed. We were divided over masks, vaccines, mandates, and lockdowns. We were divided over whether this pandemic is even real!

The headlines showcase our politicians striving for control - not bipartisanship. Faulty logic and false dichotomies abound online. Nuanced conversations are pitifully reduced to nothing more than 140-character Tweets and twenty-second Tik Tok videos. It seems like the objective isn’t to have civil, personal conversations anymore, as it is to impersonally drown out any dissenting voices – and if you can’t shout them out, then shut them down. Why expect otherwise when we endorse the “my truth/your truth” rhetoric? How isn’t that inherently divisive? All the while, the Truth is washed over in the drowning, toxic sea of subjectivity.

We saw homes turned upside down. We saw neighborhoods set ablaze. We saw injustices done by those called to uphold justice – and we saw injustices done in the name of injustice. This past year, we saw firsthand the collateral damage done to communities when hate fills the hearts of humanity. We saw firsthand the relational and informational breakdown when people are more committed to pushing a particular narrative than pursuing the actual truth.

I don’t have time to catalogue all the heartache of 2020. But you get it. Our relationships are showing significant wear and tear - because we spent the last year wearing each other out and tearing each other to pieces. “But take heart! We’re all in this together!”

How comforting is that sentiment when we are so tangibly not together? When we are people distanced and divided from one another? How comforting is “We’re all in this together” when we can’t even hold ourselves together – let alone even convince those around us that we have it all together? Togetherness – real togetherness – was the last thing people felt in 2020. So, is “We’re all in this together” really the best we can say in such a distanced, divided time as this?

“We’re in this together” isn’t enough

We are distanced. We are divided. We are desperately in need for a solution to the problem – but painfully in denial over the fact that we are not it. Don’t get me wrong: calls for unity are commendable. But our solidarity together ultimately won’t save us. Think about it: if you were deathly ill and you went to see a doctor, would you ask your doctor to contract the same deathly disease as you?  Would you ask your doctor to hop on the hospital bed next to you? To moan and groan in solidarity with you? I doubt it. You want your doctor 1) to know you, your symptoms, and your pain, 2) to care about you, and 3) and ultimately to fix the problem. Sentiments of solidarity like “We’re all in this together” are about as comforting as “Misery loves company.” That we have solidarity in being inherently a part of and living in a fallen, broken, dying world is neither comforts us, nor fixes the problem.

We can brainstorm together all we want – we can invest in healthy measures to curb or eliminate pandemics, create treatments, wear masks, and social-distance – but our combined ingenuity will never solve the problem of death – all we can do is kick the can down the road. We can huddle together all we want – but no collective warmth we could possibly generate from within ourselves could deliver us from the hypothermia of sin. We can rally all our benevolence and kindness, all the ‘good things’ we’ve done as a society – but we’ll never meet God’s standard of absolute perfection; we could collectively craft a never-ending list of self-justifications – but not one will hold up in the courtroom of heaven; we can reach as deep as we want into our own pockets – but we could never pay God the infinite debt our fallen world owes him. We’re not entitled to God’s love: as a matter of fact, we’re entitled to the complete opposite. For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

That we have in common together. Sin – our sin unites us together in our equal need for a Savior – just as sin separates us from one another – just as it separates us from God.

So, if my word of comfort is “We’re all in this together” – if that’s the best thing I have to offer – I’m being grossly dishonest.  

I can’t help but think of an interesting exchange between Protestant Reformer, Martin Luther, and his beloved wife, Katharina (a frequently overshadowed hero of the Reformation, might I add). As bold and brilliant as Martin Luther was, he frequently underwent seasons of deep depression – some lasting for days. He also knew the pain of grief: he would bury not one, but two children – first his daughter, Elizabeth, and then his daughter Magdalene. On one occasion, his depression had gotten so bad, it was absolutely debilitating. Martin left to get some fresh air, and returned home to find his wife Katie dressed as if she were about to attend a funeral – clothed in all black, wearing a sad expression on her veiled face:

“Katie, what’s happened?”

“Oh Martin, our dear Lord is dead!”

“What are you talking about, our dear Lord is dead? He’s not dead! He’s risen and reigning!”

“Are you so sure, Martin?” Katie said. “Then why do you act as if he’s not?”

This past year was inescapably brutal – and leaves us all needing to say something of real comfort to each other. It’s sad enough that our world would settle for “We’re all in this together” as a ‘satisfying’ slogan to carry them through this year – in spite of how painfully distanced and divided we all are.

Dear Christian, will you settle for it, too?  

Is that really the best we have to offer? Or have we, like a depressed Martin Luther, forgotten our God and Savior Jesus has already – in real space and time – objectively overcome sin, death, and hell for us? Is Christ Jesus still on his cross? No! Then why do we speak as if he’s still suffering to save the world? Is Jesus still in the grave? Of course not! He’s risen! Then why do we act – why do we speak as if he’s not? Why speak empty words of comfort to others as if you have nothing greater to give – when you totally do?

Solidarity < Sacrifice

God desired that we forever dwell together with him in perfect harmony. And when humanity fell into sin, every aspect of God’s once perfect creation was marred and tainted by sin – including our relationships with one another. Families fall apart. Infidelity ends a once happy marriage. Best friends betray each other. We, because of sin, don’t rejoice in but are afraid of ethnic diversity. What’s more, our once perfect relationship with God was shattered, too. And ever since the fall into sin, our world – united in sin – has together tried to fix the problem. We try to hide our sinfulness. We self-medicate to forget those things we did. We work harder to weigh the scales in our favor. We try to cover up our crimes and bury our guilt. And none of it works. So, our gracious God reached out in love to save us. When we couldn’t mend the broken relationship between us and God, he, in Christ, did.

“But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith.” (Romans 3:21-25a)

We didn’t need another person to ‘get sick’ with us: we needed a divine doctor to cure the disease. Yes, Jesus – true God from true God – is our brother in suffering, and that is a tremendous comfort; but solidarity in suffering is not what delivers us eternally from sin, death, and the powers of hell. True, to love anything in a sinful world necessitates suffering; but because the wages of sin is death, love necessitated not just suffering, but sacrifice.

God’s loving plan of salvation would intimately entail him suffering and dying. Jesus suffered what we never have so that we never will. And he did that because he loves you – not just so that your life would have a plan and purpose here and now, but that your life would be spent together with him forever in heaven. In Christ, your life has heavenly trajectory. And not just you – but all who cling to Christ in faith.

True togetherness with one another is impossible outside of and apart from Jesus. True at-one-ness with one another won’t happen outside of Jesus, just as being at one with God is impossible outside of and apart from Christ’s atoning work – his perfect life and death for us on the cross – where he took on our sin, he suffered, and died. So he could be our word of good news today.

Dear Christians, don’t settle for sentiments of hopeless solidarity as the best thing you have to say. Your greatest gift to give isn’t your solidarity: the greatest gift you have to give is your Savior. Pithy slogans like “We’re all in this together” isn’t what’s going to carry you through 2021. Jesus will. And the comfort we have to share isn’t that God, in solidarity, undergoes suffering alongside us: the comfort we have now to share is that he already has – he’s already drank the cup of suffering down to the very last drop. He’s already endured hell to save you! And the same God who worked tremendous, eternal good from the tremendous suffering and evil of the cross of Calvary continues to work good from suffering and evil every day, including in your life, all to bring us to himself and bring us all safely home to be with him. Let that be our word of encouragement. This new year let that be our good news.