The Lutheran Hour

"Misery Loves Company"

#93-38
Presented on The Lutheran Hour on May 24, 2026
Speaker: Rev. Dr. Michael Zeigler
Copyright 2026 Lutheran Hour Ministries

Text: Acts 2:38

It had happened 25 years ago, but you could still see some regret on Chris’ face. “I almost killed a kid,” he said. Looking back, the boy in question wasn’t too seriously injured, but that didn’t make Chris feel any better in the moment.

It was at a Christian summer camp, one of those places where they get the kids good and tuckered out with games and fun all day long and then give them testimonials about Jesus at night. Chris’ job that day was to supervise some grounds-keeping work at the camp lake. To do the job, the crew had to relocate the floating wooden dock, which was tethered near the bank of the lake. But what they hadn’t realized when they moved it was that they had inadvertently sailed the large platform of weathered planks and rusty nails directly into the path of the camp’s zipline, which was designed to land with a splash in the lake.

And it was the sound of the zipline that caught Chris’ attention. He was on the opposite side of the little lake when he heard the launch: “Zzzzzz.” In seconds, the unwitting zipliner had reached terminal velocity and is on a direct heading for the floating dock. Chris watches it in slow motion. He hears himself shouting to his crew. But it was already too late. Later that afternoon, the camper returned from the hospital, in mostly good spirits, but bandaged-up and on crutches.

After the Jesus-talk that night, the staff stayed up late to debrief the incident. Chris looked dejected and he was sitting in the back, waiting to be berated. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the older, more experienced counselors each took turns, humbly and regretfully telling their own stories, revealing their own past mistakes, oversights, and mishaps. They weren’t saying it was okay. They weren’t making excuses, but they commiserated with Chris—baptized into this confederation of the humbled. And Chris fell asleep that night strangely comforted. Maybe I’m not the worst person in the world?

It’s sometimes said that “misery loves company.” What Chris experienced was something like that, but different. Negatively understood, “misery loves company” may simply mean that miserable people like to bring other people down to their level—that misery doesn’t just want any kind of company, it wants only miserable company. Sometimes this is called “fear-affiliation theory,” which says that people who feel threatened tend to seek out other people who feel threatened in the same way.ⁱ

Think of it like this: if you’re feeling sad or distressed, and you hear how other people are doing so great, it can make you feel worse, right? You’ve probably felt like that at some point. I know I have. I hear someone getting a compliment for doing something good, and sure, I’m happy for them, yeah, I’m happy, but also, a little resentful and insecure, because they got praise and I didn’t. And what does that say about me? Or someone, say, for example, is telling you about the great time they had with friends or family, and something about their happiness makes you bitter? Just a little? See, misery wants company in this way because we compare ourselves to others. We feel like we’re in competition with them, like joy is this scarce resource, and if someone else has more of it, then that must mean there’s less left over for me.

But in another sense, a positive sense, “misery loves company” means that humbled and broken people crave a confederation so that they can know that they’re not alone. So that they can say, “Maybe I’m not the worst, or worst-off person in the world. Maybe everyone else is right here with me. No one is better, and none are worse.” Which is some comfort, right?

Now, certain voices in our secular culture will tell us that this is all the comfort we get. And it’s the only company we’ve got. It’s just us down here, they say, just us—no-hopers, jokers, and rogues, and we’re all we’ve got, so make the best of it. And don’t go looking for some savior on a zipline from heaven to splash down and save us.

Anne grew up steeped in this culture. Ever since Anne can remember, people have told her that God does not exist. At some point, though, she wondered, “But maybe He actually does?” Anne is 26 years old now. She was born and raised in France. And last month, on April 4, 2026, the Saturday evening before Easter Sunday, Anne was baptized into the Christian faith as an adult convert—she, along with 21,000 other adults and teenagers throughout France, all baptized into Christ that same day.

The Saturday evening before Easter has long been a traditional time for baptisms, when the whole Christian Church uses water together with the Word of God’s promise to bring adult converts into the community, so there are typically a disproportionately high number of baptisms at Easter. But in France, that number has tripled in the last decade. French secular media outlets have called it an “astonishing phenomenon.” In a country that has become famously secular, to have 21,000 adults and adolescents baptized in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, on a single day—that’s quite a splash.

Anne, for her part, offered this account: “As I grew up,” she said, “I realized that life could be complicated, even very difficult … There are always difficult moments. But since I let Jesus and the Holy Spirit into my heart, I know that I am not alone. God is with me every moment, and He loves me just as I am. It is extraordinary to be loved and accompanied in this way.”ⁱⁱ

When life is difficult, the miserable crave company, but is that all? For baptized Christians, followers of Jesus, there is more, because Christ is in our company. Christ commiserated with us. The verb co-(m)miserate, comes from two Latin words: “co” with means together, and “miserere” which means, “to show mercy.” Christians are accompanied because we’ve been baptized in the company of Christ Jesus, who met our misery with God’s mercy.

Christ’s compassion for the screw-ups, His welcome to the broken, His grace for the hopeless—that’s been the core and common Christian experience from the beginning. It’s what binds us together—not just shared misery, but shared astonishment at God’s mercy.

For Christians, this weekend marks the 50th day after Easter—it’s often called the birthday of the Christian Church. We call this Sunday, “Pentecost,” which is derived from the Greek word for “50.” This 50th day has long been special among the Jewish people (Jesus Himself was Jewish, remember, along with all of His first followers). Pentecost was a festival that marked the 50th day after Passover, which commemorated the event when God led the Jewish people out of the misery of slavery in Egypt, with mighty signs and wonders of blood and fire and billows of smoke.

Now, Jesus had been crucified during Passover, and several thousand Jewish people were in Jerusalem when it happened. And many of them had either joined in the mob shouting for Jesus to be crucified, or else stood by and did nothing as it happened. It was a miserable day for God’s people.

Seven weeks later, they’re all headed back to Jerusalem for another festival. Some of them traveled many miles because Jews had been scattered throughout the region for generations and had lived as citizens of various countries and spoke many, many different languages. But now they were all headed back to Jerusalem again, for Pentecost, to commemorate and commiserate.

As they’re walking, memories of what had happened the last time they were here replay in the minds in slow motion: an innocent Man, a good Man, a holy Man, a Man of the people who had become famous for healing and feeding people, teaching and forgiving them, a Man of courage who’d confronted the religious leaders in their hypocrisy—that man had been murdered, killed on a cross in a circus of jealous power games. And they watched it happen. And you could still see the regret on some of their faces. And here they were, getting back together again, misery loves company.

See, they hadn’t yet heard the Good News of Easter yet, that God had raised Jesus from the dead, proving Him to be exactly who He said He was—God’s Son, God’s Messiah, the rightful King of Israel, of Jewish people scattered everywhere, of all people everywhere. They didn’t know that Jesus was alive and was planning this big event for them at Pentecost. But He was. And whom did Jesus send to initiate this splash? One hundred and twenty fellow Jews who knew exactly how these no-hopers, jokers, and rogues felt.

See, this group of 120, even though they had believed in Jesus, they also had abandoned Him when He was publicly humiliated and murdered. They had their own embarrassing stories to share. And they would share them, eventually record them for all to read in biographies of Jesus called Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. And their new leader, Peter, he probably felt like he was the worst, because he had denied even knowing Jesus—three times he denied Him. But here, at Pentecost, once again, Jesus gives them space to try and to fail. So, when Peter gets up on the platform to speak to his people about this incident, he doesn’t berate them. He commiserates with them. He meets them in God’s mercy.

And even if you think you know this story, or you’ve heard bits of it in church, I’d invite you to hear it afresh. Imagine it with me. It’s recorded in the second chapter of the book of Acts.
Listen, see what gets you.

Now when the day of Pentecost had arrived, they were all gathered together in one place [all the followers of Jesus, about 120 men and women]. And it happened—there came from heaven, a sound like a mighty rushing wind that filled the entire house where they were sitting. And they saw what seemed to be flames of fire, tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit. And they began to speak in other tongues, in other languages as the Spirit enabled them.

Now, staying in Jerusalem, there were God-fearing Jews, men from every nation under heaven. And when they heard the sound, a crowd came together, and they were filled with wonder, because each person was hearing them [the Christ-followers] speak to them in their own language. And they were astonished and amazed. And they started saying, “Look, aren’t all these people speaking Galileans? How is that we hear them speaking to us in our own native languages—Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia and Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, people from Egypt and Libya, visitors from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs, we hear them telling us in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” And they were all astonished and perplexed. And they started saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others, mocking, were saying, “They’ve had too much wine.”

Then Peter, he stood up among the eleven [the apostles of Jesus], and he lifted up his voice and he addressed them, “Men of Judea, all you staying in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, give ear to my words—these people are not drunk as you suppose. It’s only 9 in morning. No, but this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel [as it is written]: ‘And in the last days, it will be, God says, I will pour out My Spirit on all people, all flesh, and your sons and your daughters will proclaim, they will prophesy. And your young men will see visions and your old men will dream dreams, even on my servants, both men and women, in those days I will pour out My Spirit on them and they will prophesy. And I will show wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. The sun will be turned to darkness, the moon to blood, before the coming of the great and glorious Day of the Lord. And it will be that everyone who calls on the Name of the Lord will be saved.’

“Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a Man accredited to you by God through mighty works and signs and wonders God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves know—this Jesus, delivered up by the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, this Jesus whom you crucified by the hands of lawless men, this Jesus God raised Him to life, setting Him free from the agony of death, because it was not possible for death to keep its hold on Him.

“See, [King] David says about Him [in the Psalms], ‘I saw the Lord always before me, because the Lord is at my right hand, I will never be shaken, and so my heart is glad, my tongue rejoices, and in my body, I will live in hope, because You [O Lord]—You did not abandon me to the grave, You will not let Your Holy One see decay. You made known to me the paths of life. You will fill me with joy in Your presence.’

Now brothers, I can tell you for certain that David, the patriarch [the king who wrote that Psalm] he both died and was buried and his tomb is with us to this day. So, he was speaking as a prophet, and he knew that God had promised him on oath that He would set one of his descendants on his throne, and so looking ahead, he was speaking about the resurrection of the Messiah, the Christ, that He would not be abandoned to the grave, that His body would not see decay, this Jesus, God raised to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact. Jesus, exalted to God’s right hand, has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit, and He has poured out this day what you now see and hear, because it was not David who ascended into the heavens, but David says, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, sit at My right hand until I make all Your enemies a footstool for Your feet.’

“So then, let all the house of Israel know for certain, that God made Him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

And when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and they said to Peter and the other apostles, “Brothers, what do we do?” And Peter says to them, “Turn back to God—repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the Name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Because the promise is for you, and for your children, for everyone who is far off, for all whom the Lord our God calls to Himself.” And with many other words, he bore witness to them and pleaded with them, saying, “Be saved—all of you—be saved from this crooked generation.” And those who received his word were baptized. And there were added that day about three thousand people.

Which isn’t quite 21,000, like in France this year, but a good start.

My friend, Chris, who almost killed a kid at that Christian summer camp, explained how that whole afternoon for him was just miserable. After he had watched the young man on the zipline slam into the dock at near terminal velocity, Chris was grateful that the kid was conscious. They didn’t know how badly he was hurt, so they loaded him on a stretcher and someone drove him to the local hospital. That afternoon at camp, Chris had to be interviewed for a police report. He didn’t know if he was going to be fired. He didn’t know if he was going to be sued. He didn’t know if he was going to jail.

Later that evening, when the kid returned to camp with mostly minor injuries, and his parents said that they would not sue, that relieved a lot of pressure, but Chris was still dreading the staff meeting that they had scheduled for that night.

Around 11 p.m., everyone was crowded into the room waiting for the word from the wizened, old camp director (the guy was, like, 36, tops). Brad was his name. And he’d been around. He’d seen a thing or two. “Let me start with a story,” Brad began. He explained how, years ago, when he was a young camp counselor, they’d given him the job to drive the speed boat on the camp lake to pull the tubers. And of course, the campers are egging him on to go faster and faster, and he’s whippin’ them around the lake, and they’re splashing and falling off and laughing.

The next guy gets on and Brad says to himself, “I’m gonna give this kid the ride of his life. So, he opens it up, full throttle. And they’re building momentum, and he spins it, and the kid flies off the tube–into the dock.”

Now at this point maybe you’re thinking—what is the name of this camp? So I can be sure never to send my kid there! But remember, this is 25 years ago, and we’ve got a point here. Hang with me. The kid, he wasn’t seriously injured, but Brad, he could not stop berating himself—“How did that happen?” he’s wondering. “How did I not see that that this was about to happen? I know I’m near the dock. I know I’m spinning this kid around.” And then he looks over at Chris and says, “Sometimes this stuff just happens. We just look back on it and think, how in the world did I not see that?”

That’s how Brad opened the meeting. And then, spontaneously, another counselor shares a similar story, and another, and another. And nobody is making excuses for being reckless. Nobody’s saying that this is all okay or that they shouldn’t strive to do and be better. But look, when you put a bunch of 20-year-olds in charge of teenagers to try to give them an outdoor adventure to help lift them out of that all-too-common modern secular teenage funk, sometimes things go wrong.

Brad closed the night with a thought that still applies to the church today, to God’s people in all times and all places: we do what we do because we want to give growing people space to try and to fail, to break down walls and to build relationships, to help introduce more people to Jesus. Yes, we can always be better at what we do. And we must be. But we will make mistakes. And if Jesus is enough for them, He’s enough for us, too. Amen? Amen.

i See Farrow, Grolleau, and Ibanez, “Does misery love company? An experimental investigation,” Oxford Economic Papers, Vol 74, Issue 2, April 2022. Accessed on April 16, 2026 at https://academic.oup.com/oep/article/74/2/523/6333591
ii Caroline De Sury, “From Searching to Belonging: Record Easter Baptisms in France Reflect Personal Journeys of Faith,” OSV News, April 15, 2026. Accessed on April 16, 2026 at https://www.osvnews.com/from-searching-to-belonging-record-easter-baptisms-in-france-reflect-personal-journeys-of-faith/

Reflections for May 24, 2026
Title: Misery Loves Company

No reflection segment this week.

Music Selections for this program:

“A Mighty Fortress” arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“Crucifer” by Sydney H. Nicholson, arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
“Come, Oh, Come, Thou Quickening Spirit” arr. Henry Gerike. Used by permission.
“Come, Holy Ghost, God and Lord” From The Concordia Organist (© 2009 Concordia Publishing House) Used by permission.