Life Not Fair

By Aiden Marhofke

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. … Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matthew 5:3-12 NIV). The Beatitudes challenge the ever-popular prosperity gospel. Megachurches bringing in thousands, and streaming to millions, promise followers earthly riches. A comfortable salary, healing from sickness, and a long life — all can be earned if one simply has enough faith. The Beatitudes, however, tell a different story. How can God’s mercy be shown if Christians already have everything they need? The answer is simple: it can’t. This is why He so often chooses the unlikely, failures, losers, and outcasts to accomplish His work. Weakness doesn’t just show God’s power. It perfects it.

The concept of utter brokenness is key to the Gospel, yet it rarely finds its way into contemporary Christian music. Relient K is one of the few Christian bands letting raw honesty direct their songwriting, and it is especially clear in their 2007 hit “Deathbed.” This unexpected ballad closes their chart-topping album Five Score and Seven Years Ago and is praised by fans for its gripping account of an addict’s sad story. It acknowledges real-world problems but refuses to force them into“quick fix” models. The narrator learns that chasing earthly treasure only ends in destruction, a lesson that listeners from all walks of life should heed. As the ballad closes and the protagonist is carried into Heaven, we are reminded that the things of this world have no impact on eternity. “Deathbed” by Relient K has been a constant reminder that Jesus is the perfect answer to the temporal problems I face.

Acknowledgement is the key to perspective-taking. I’m not talking about the popular model that involves seeing an argument through the eyes of an opponent, but rather, seeing personal struggle through a Biblical lens. As someone who deals with severe anxiety and depression, I have thought, more than once, Will this ever end? Days turn to months, and months become years. Yet, I still find myself lying awake — heart pounding — losing the battle with insomnia. I cry out to God, but sometimes He seems silent. If I struggle long enough, shouldn’t He take the burden from me? That’s not guaranteed.

The first seven minutes of “Deathbed” put into words all the things I am unable to, focusing on the struggles of humanity. The main character, an adolescent on his journey to manhood, faces problems that begin to snowball. Most of them stem from his own poor choices, but he still encounters “bad luck” that causes the struggle to further overtake him. The chorus echoes bitterness over the way his life turned out: “I can smell the death on the sheets / covering me / I can’t believe / this is the end” (“Deathbed”).

His problems are not limited to dissatisfaction, though. “I can hear those sad memories / still haunting me / so many things / I’d do again” reminds us that his troubling past lives on. The memories haven’t subsided, but rather, they are still very real. Throwing up his hands in the second-to-last verse, he says, “I’ve given up hope on the days I have left.” Nothing is forced to align with the idea of a prosperity gospel. This man has ruined his life, and he can’t turn it around.

The more control one tries to gain through fleeting pleasure, the more demise they face. This ideal may seem overly rigid, but Scripture tells us that satisfaction is found in God alone. The character in this song knows this truth all too well. His decisions to smoke, impulsively marry, and drink don’t necessarily equal disaster. The latter two are, in fact, very common. Despite this, he recalls all of the ways that these things became his tomb. “I smoked until I threw up / yet I still lit ‘em up / for thirty more years / like a machine,” “The years would go by / and [his wife] would love someone else / and I realized I hadn’t been loved yet myself,” and “A bottle of Beam kept the memories from me.” Each of these lines argue that taking control only proves how much is out of our hands. The words almost feel like a bumpy road, riddled with endless potholes (or, more accurately, roadblocks).

Two words have plagued me since the day I first battled anxiety: “Why me?” In my weaker moments, I feel that someone more sinful than I should be suffering. Seeing others live stress-free lives has brought me to my knees, asking God why He allows struggle if he loves me so much. I was surprised to find that this is the heart and soul of coping, and chasing solutions without God is futile. Trying to gain control is really just like running against the wind.

Heaven is not contingent on earthly struggles. No matter how bad things seem, Satan can’t touch a believer’s salvation. This theme moved me when I first heard “Deathbed,” and sometimes, I still tear up when I hear the down verse. Almost seven minutes of fast-paced, intentionally confused words give way to a groundbreaking prayer. The tempo significantly slows to maximize the dramatic effect. “You said, ‘What have I done?’ / You loved that lamb / with every sinful bone / and there you wept alone” reminds me of the comfort I felt when I accepted Jesus into my life at the age of eight. I knew I was broken beyond repair and had tried almost everything to control my future. But nothing worked. When my eyes were finally opened, I realized that nothing I did had brought me to that place. In the words of Relient K, “I was so scared of Jesus / but he sought me out / like the cancer in my lungs / that’s killing me now.” I’m completely undeserving of God’s love, but I rest in His mercy every day. To quote the band again, “The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair” (“Be My Escape”).

To this day, I still ask, “Why me?” Only now, I do it from a place of thanksgiving. Jesus hears my every cry, and though He seems silent, I know He listens. By showing me the meaning of depravity and walking me through a time when I tried everything to gain control, He became the perfect answer.

The character featured in “Deathbed” is fictional, but the band’s lead singer is not. He speaks about anxiety, grief, and longing in almost every interview I have seen. It is no coincidence that he chose these struggles for the character he created. Thankfully, Jesus saved me before my distorted worldview landed me in the same place as the character on his deathbed. Even if He hadn’t, though, the fictional character and I wouldn’t be unlike. We would both be united in physical death, but share in spiritual rebirth. We would spend eternity together. Can someone, living or dying, ask for anything more? The track closes with words that speak of God’s attributes, giving doubting listeners hope for tomorrow: “I am the way / follow me and take my hand / I am the truth / embrace me, and you’ll understand / I am the life / and through me you’ll live again.”

Works Cited

The Holy Bible: New International Version. Zondervan, 2011.

Relient K. “Be My Escape.” Mmhmm, Capitol Records, 2004.

Relient K. “Deathbed.” Five Score and Seven Years Ago, Capitol Records, 2007.