Anyone who knows me knows that I love a 2×2.
These graphs—composed of two axes, divided to make four quadrants—are known for simply and clearly comparing two variables. I first learned about the 2×2 in graduate school and have been using them ever since. In fact, several of the books I’ve helped to write, including Mission Drift and Rooting for Rivals, are built on this simple framework.
By joining two separate ideas, the 2×2 highlights the power of a three-letter word: and. That elusive upper right quadrant is often where we find the healthiest pairing—the land of “and.”
In 2020, we lived in the “and.” It’s no secret that the year held immense grief. Our world lost millions of lives to the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic ravaged the global economy, with devastating effects for the most vulnerable communities. Racial injustice—and our awareness of it—escalated. Faith leaders’ moral failures further eroded trust in the Church. Political rancor and division left lasting wounds.
Globally, nationally, and individually, we have cause for lament.
Yet, there is an “and.” Lament is not the only story.
Crisis led to compassion. In the past year, communities came together to serve the most vulnerable . The global Church responded to enormous need with prayer and action. Charitable giving in the United States reached a record $471 billion. Groups like the AND Campaign and Be the Bridge helped us envision a path to reconciliation.
Increasingly, I want to hold the “and.” To acknowledge just one side—lament or celebration—is incomplete. When we only lament, we risk spiraling into despair. When we only celebrate, we risk disconnecting from the brokenness around us—and we miss opportunities to repair what we fail to acknowledge is broken. This makes me think of another simple 2×2:
We’re called to both lament and celebrate.
“And” reminds us that joy can coexist with sorrow. Instead of envisioning our lives as a linear series of mountaintop and valley moments, perhaps a more helpful picture is a train track, where joy and anguish run in parallel.
The intricacies of this life present us with bittersweet moments, in which great joy and great sadness coexist. As the Apostle Paul wrote thousands of years ago, may we be people who “rejoice with those who rejoice” and “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15, ESV).
We serve a loving God who meets us in the “and.” Like railroad ties that hold the tracks together, God, in infinite grace and mercy, faithfully holds us together as we lament the brokenness and celebrate the hope that’s breaking through in this world.
Let’s embrace the “and.”
