How WandaVision Reminds of Christ’s Humanity

Hurricane Harvey came and many Texans experienced a great deal of loss. Unwelcome waves crashed into neighborhood streets. Families suffered.

The mix of grief was hard to watch as financial and familial loss accumulated for many friends. Needless to say, they had a rough go. Yet the providence of God was at work in the loss.

This side of the fall, we all deal with loss. An unmet promise, a deceased love one, seemingly broken and fractured ministry. Jesus did too.

Persevering Love

This year I, along with many other COVID-weary and screen-transfixed millennials, watched Marvel’s WandaVision as each episode released on Disney Plus. Besides creative storytelling that explores the nostalgia of television across decades, the storyline makes a helpful point concerning wrestling with grief.

Late in the series, show protagonist Wanda Maximoff, led by a witch, Agatha Harkness, re-visits her childhood, the H.Y.D.R.A. base the audience first saw her at, as well as the Avengers facility in upstate New York. A climactic scene recalls a moment at the Avengers compound when her and her (to-be) android husband, Vision, discuss loss. The pain of searing loss had marked Wanda, from the death of her Sokovian brother to the tumultuous events of the present. Vision tenderly comforts Wanda with “What is grief, if not love persevering?”

Vision tenderly comforts Wanda with “What is grief, if not love persevering?”
— Wanda

By means of common grace, these words provide a telling picture of the truth about grief. Because of the fall there is grief. We are invited to enjoy love, yet there is a fracture in our relationships. Things are not the way they ought to be. Promises break. Situations get hard. People die. Grief comes.

Jesus was well acquainted with grief. In fact, the famous prophecy from Isaiah shows that the Messiah would be the suffering servant, a man of sorrows quite familiar with the depths of human grief (Isa. 53:5). But, as Vision reminded us, grief only stings because of love. One does not grieve what one does not value and treasure.

Past Pain

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is told by two sisters—Mary and Martha—that “Lord, the one you love is sick” (John 11:3). The text says, “When Jesus heard it, he said, “This sickness will not end in death but is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Although John’s Gospel makes much of Jesus as God, in this moment God the Son is not flexing his deity. Rather, we have a pristine instance of the humanity of the God-man. Jesus already has a clear picture of the providence of God in the situation. Yet, he still wrestles with the pain of the coming loss.

Christ deeply cared for his disciples and upon the death of one of them, he is struck with grief. At the death of Lazarus, Jesus asks, “Where have you put him?” and then he weeps (John 11:34–35). Why portray Jesus in this way? Why is he weeping and emotional over a death he, in his divine nature, could surely resurrect?

This humanizing picture of the Lord Jesus reveals that he is indeed like us in every way, excepting sin (Heb. 4:15). Jesus felt real emotions (Matt. 9:20–22; 14–20; 26:38–39; Mark 11:15–17), had true human passions, and a mood shift when he perceived the death of his dear friend Lazarus.

Yet the providence of God was at work in the loss.

Present Hope

Yet the providence of God was at work in the loss.

When Wanda arrived in Westview, there was no sign of the future she desired. The price of Thanos’s snap had exacted the cost of her Mind-Stone-powered mate. We get a glimpse of how Wanda has wrestled through domestic desires shattered. We watch Wanda ponder moments missed. When we are grieving, we do the same. Because we love those we’ve lost, we often journey through memories, moments, and milestones as we process our own grief.

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Many joined Martha and Mary in mourning. The narrative goes,

As soon as Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him, but Mary remained seated in the house. Then Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died. Yet even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.”

“Your brother will rise again,” Jesus told her.

Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live. Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:20–26)

Mary seated in her home, stuck. Wanda in a reality of her own making, stuck.

When Mary goes to Jesus she falls to her feet and says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died!” (John 11:32). The fact that all-is-not-as-it seems throughout the series centers on Wanda’s despair over the reality she wants to have with a husband, family, and household and the reality she resides within. One harnesses (fictional) power and dwells on her sorrow; the other wrestles with sorrow in the presence of True power.

Yet there is a present hope amid the chaos. Jesus’s words are a comfort for those grieving. The Scripture says, “When Jesus saw her crying, and the Jews who had come with her crying, he was deeply moved in his spirit and troubled” (John 11:33).

Jesus, though divine, was deeply moved as he felt the sting of love continuing in grief.

Jesus, though divine, was deeply moved as he felt the sting of love continuing in grief. Even though he was keenly aware of how the story would play out, Jesus empathized with his sorrowful friends. The humanity of Christ in this situation exemplifies that the providence of God was at work in the loss. Jesus is love to the broken, mourning, and faint-hearted still. And the love of Jesus persevering eventually diminishes grief.

When we experience grief, love perseveres. Jesus’s humanity in this text shows how real, raw emotion can gnaw at us and yet—at the end of the day—love triumphs.

Eschatological Relief

Clearly, God was at work in the loss of Lazarus; it had to take place in order for the glory of Christ’s miracle to be seen. God’s power was on display as Jesus shouted with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:41–43). At his words the dead man rose, foreshadowing the coming suffering, death, and resurrection of true love persevering until the end.

In the same way, the pain of our current losses is colored by the eschatological relief of the gospel. The gospel is love persevering. God has a plan for redeeming all things and, despite a fall into sin, there is hope in the gift God provides. God through Christ has provided eschatological relief. We can treasure the fact that love perseveres.

Vision’s memorable lines remind us that most of us don’t have strong categories for dealing with pain, death, and loss. We avoid it. In fact, as anyone who played through the levels of Super Mario knows, Bowser is the hardest to defeat. Saved for last, the final enemy ought to be the hardest to overcome, right? By no accident, Scripture calls death the last enemy (1 Cor. 15:26).

At the cross, Christ tramples death in one final swoop. This is one of the major ways we find eschatological relief—grief stings, yet there is a bigger blow that has shattered death. In the person of Christ Jesus, death has been killed.

Love persevering has an end; it has a goal. John beholds in Revelation all things made new: where God will be at the center and where “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4).

If providence tells us anything, it is there is hope dawning for the grief presently faced.

Perhaps, you have experienced a great deal of loss. Maybe it was job disappointment, an unexpected financial hit, or worse, the loss of a family member or friend. These losses sober us to the reality of the brevity of life and the purpose God has designed for us to not waste our lives here.

Don’t fail to see that the providence of God is at work in the loss.


Zak Tharp is an editor, writer, and lay pastor who lives in the greater Fort Worth, Texas area. He holds an M.A. from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. Currently, he is a Ph.D. student in church history at Ridley Melbourne in Australia. He grew up in rural East Texas and received a degree in Communication at Stephen F. Austin State University. He is married to Hannah and enjoys coffee, hammocks, theology, and seeing people savor Jesus. You can follow Zak on Twitter.

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