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I recently came across a phrase that I didn’t particularly like: radical acceptance. Maybe it was the word acceptance that bothered me. It sounded too much like giving up. Too much like surrender. Too much like one of those phrases people tell you when they have no idea what else to say. “Just accept it.” Thanks. That’s incredibly helpful.

But the more I sat with it, the more I realized radical acceptance isn’t about giving up at all. It’s about telling the truth. And if there is one thing scripture teaches us, it is that truth matters. The truth is that some things simply are. The diagnosis is real. The grief is real. The loss is real. The pain is real. The disappointment is real. We may not like those realities. We may pray they change. We may work to change them. But pretending they aren’t there doesn’t make them disappear.

The article I was reading described radical acceptance as accepting reality completely and totally. At first that sounded terrible. But then I realized it doesn’t mean approving of reality. It doesn’t mean liking reality. It doesn’t mean saying, “Everything is wonderful.” It means saying, “This is where I am.” There is a difference.

For those of you who have followed my ongoing knee adventure—or misadventure, depending on the day—you know that pain has now become a regular part of my life.  My knee hurts. Some days it speaks quietly. Some days it screams. One of the ways you can tell my pain is getting worse is that my patience gets shorter. I wish that weren’t true, but it is. When the pain ramps up, so does my irritability. What I’ve come to realize, though, is that beneath the frustration is something deeper. Pain has a way of making me feel powerless. I can’t control what my knee is doing, how quickly it heals, or whether a treatment works the way I hoped. And when I feel like I’ve lost control over the things that matter most, I find myself trying to control the things that don’t. The irritation isn’t really about whatever is happening in the moment. More often than not, it’s a sign that I’m tired, hurting, and struggling with the reality that some things are simply beyond my control.

The science behind radical acceptance is actually fascinating. Researchers have found that when people spend enormous amounts of energy fighting reality, they often increase their suffering. The original problem is still there, but now you've added frustration, impatience, control, anger, resentment, anxiety, and exhaustion on top of it. In other words, pain is hard enough without spending all day arguing with the fact that it exists. Studies of people living with chronic pain have found that acceptance doesn’t necessarily reduce the pain itself, but it often reduces suffering. People function better. They cope better. Their quality of life improves. Neuroscientists have even found that acceptance and mindfulness practices can change how our brain responds to distress. Acceptance doesn’t make the storm disappear. It just helps keep the storm from steering the ship.

That sounds a lot like faith to me.

The Psalms are filled with radical acceptance. The psalmists don’t deny reality. They don’t pretend everything is fine. They cry. They complain. They question God. They lament. Sometimes they sound a little dramatic, if we’re being honest. But they tell the truth. They acknowledge reality and then place themselves in God’s hands.

Jesus does the same thing in Gethsemane. Jesus doesn’t pretend the cross is a good idea. Jesus asks if there is another way. Jesus is honest about the pain ahead. Yet Jesus ultimately accepts the reality before him and entrusts himself to God.

I think many of us spend our lives waiting for reality to become something else. We wait for people to change.  We wait for our health to return. We wait for grief to leave. We wait for life to become fair. Meanwhile, life is happening right now.

Radical acceptance doesn’t mean we stop praying for healing. It doesn’t mean we stop working for justice. It doesn’t mean we stop hoping for change. It means we stop wasting energy pretending reality is something other than what it is. Faith is not denying the storm. Faith is trusting God in the middle of the storm. Faith is not pretending pain isn’t real. Faith is believing pain does not get the final word. Faith is not demanding that today be different before we can live it. Faith is discovering that God is already present in the reality we are trying so desperately to escape.

I’m still learning radical acceptance. Some days I do better than others. Some days I accept reality. Some days I argue with it. Some days I bargain with it. Some days I throw what can only be described as a world-class temper tantrum. But I’m beginning to realize that acceptance is not the enemy of hope. In fact, it may be one of hope’s closest companions.

Because when we stop demanding that reality become something else, we can finally start looking for where God is already at work. We can begin noticing grace in the middle of the struggle, joy in the middle of the grief, and hope in the middle of the pain. And sometimes that is where healing begins—not when circumstances change, but when we discover that God has been present all along.  See you next Sunday! 

Peace, Pastor Tracy