Elmo’s Wholesome Question That Broke the Internet

Written by Madeleine Grace Scholefield, Australia

I never thought I’d be writing about Elmo for work.

My manager typed in our work chat this morning: Did you guys see Elmo asking how people were on socials last week?

I didn’t want to admit that I’ve never had Twitter (now X), and that I only heard about it through some viral reel on Instagram days after the original post.

Yeah, I typed back. It was cool seeing the response.

And it was cool. And sad. It was a lot of things, really.

If you’re like me and you’re not on X and you don’t know what on earth I’m talking about, it turns out Elmo (yes, the red fuzzy puppet from the show Sesame Street) has an X account, and he tweeted on the 30th of January: Elmo is just checking in! How is everybody doing?

The answer? Not good, Elmo. Not good at all.

Thousands (literally thousands) of people unloaded what they were going through in the thread:

Elmo, I’m suffering from existential dread over here.

I’m at my lowest.

Elmo I’m depressed and broke.

I’m stressed the **** out Elmo, I’m trying not to lose my mind.

My mother passed away and I’m oh so very sad.

Every morning, I cannot wait to go back to sleep.

Some of my friends are dead. Some of my family is dead. I’m 30 now so nothing but disappointment and death awaits me.

My wife left me, Elmo.

I see no future for me. I won't be here much longer.

Phew. Let’s take a breath. It’s a lot, right?

At the time of writing this, a mere six days on, Elmo’s post has been seen by 207.9 million people. People like you and me. People who are feeling the effects of broken families, broken relationships, broken systems—a broken world. People who are craving hope.

And yes, I know this isn’t news to you. So why write about it now? Because, I think, there are some important things Elmo’s post taught me, and I think they’re good reminders for us all:

Life Is Hard.

Sometimes, I get a little worried when my life feels hard. I mean, I know life is hard, but shouldn’t my life be easier with Christ? I’ve got the Holy Spirit within me, Jesus by my side, I don’t have to worry what happens after I die, and yet—some days, I feel down. Really down.

Years ago, when I was depressed, the message I received from some well-meaning Christians was clear: You have Jesus. Why are you struggling? It felt like I didn’t have a right to be down, or to find things difficult. That life with Christ was supposed to mean we don’t struggle. That the more blameless we are before God, the easier things will be for us.

But that didn’t exactly ring true for Job, did it? Or Jesus? Or any of His disciples?

The truth is, Jesus never promised us an easy life. In fact, the life He promised is a tough cross to bear. “You will be hated by everyone because of me,” He says in Matthew 10:22. “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also,” He says in John 15:20. They’re not pleasant words to read, are they?

So, what’s the answer? What does that mean for us today, when we’re still in the “in between”, still waiting for a time when God will dwell among us and when there’ll be no more death or mourning or pain (Revelation 21:3-4)?

It means that while we wait, we have hope. And that’s no small thing.

I scrolled through the thousands of comments left by desperate, hurting people on Elmo’s post, and the need for hope was palpable. You read the culmination of everyone’s pain and despair and you want to cry out, “God, what’s being done?!”

The answer? It’s already been done.

“In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus tells His followers in John 16:33, “But take heart! I have overcome the world.” THAT is our hope. He has overcome.

It doesn’t mean we won’t struggle here on earth. It doesn’t mean that as followers of Christ, we’re somehow immune from the very real pain of this world; from difficulties and grief and yes, even mental illness.

But it does mean that we know what comes next. We know who to turn to. And we can bring that knowing—that hope—to others.

Our Job Isn’t to Make Life Look Easy.

As Christians, we’re sometimes very slow to admit when we’re going through a hard time. Perhaps it’s because we feel the burden to live a “#blessed” life and show others how much JOY and PEACE there is in following Jesus. And there is joy and peace, yes. After all, Jesus came to give us “life to the full” (John 10:10). But there’s also a lot in our lives that isn’t joyful, or peaceful.

So what if it was the other way around? What if, by us showing fellow Christians and non-Christians alike that we struggle, too, we’re making space so we can carry each other’s burdens? And, further, to look to where we find our hope?

One of the biggest reasons I didn’t feel like I could tell people about my anxiety, depression or suicidal thoughts was because I didn’t want to be a bad “witness” for the gospel.

I was worried that my negative feelings and anxiety and big existential questions would turn people away from God. A Christian struggling with all that? Not exactly a great advertisement for living life with Christ, right?

But ultimately, as Jesus says Himself, He came for the sick, not the healthy (Mark 2:17, Luke 5:31). What’s the point in walking around pretending to be well when deep inside we’re just as in need of saving as everyone else?

As Christ-followers, we’re meant to be walking advertisements for Him. But that doesn’t mean we have to hide our struggles.

Instead, we can reflect God’s glory and mercy and, perhaps most importantly, His grace when we admit that life is hard and that even though we struggle, He is good, and our hope is in Him.

Realising that it’s not our job to play the “perfect Christian” role is so freeing. And that leads me to the next point…

We Need to Share Our Struggles.

I imagine it took a lot of bravery for that first person to be honest in response to Elmo’s question.

Amidst all the sincere, heartfelt unburdenings, there were plenty of comments that didn’t take Elmo’s question seriously. It could easily have been just another of Elmo’s (many, I’ve since learned) posts that go largely unnoticed. It could have been a lighthearted thread of people making jokes or playing down their struggles.

But because one person dared to go there—to say how they were really doing—it gave others permission to share something real of themselves, too.

I’ve felt that way in Bible studies and small groups before. Sometimes, there’ll be a night where everyone’s in a light-hearted mood. People are cracking jokes, banter is flowing, and when it comes time to go around the circle and share how our weeks have been, it feels like being dragged on stage at an open-mic comedy event you didn’t sign up for.

The three people who share before you all tell funny anecdotes from their weeks, filling the room with snorts. And then it’s your turn. All eyes are on you, expecting to be entertained. But all you really feel like saying is that your week has been awful and you’re stressed out of your mind and you’ve had three panic attacks and you feel on the verge of crying and you don’t know how you’ll get through it.

Anyone else? Just me?

I’ll admit that on some of those nights, the pressure I feel to fit in has won, and I’ve chosen to mask what I’m really struggling with and give some vague, half-hearted “Yeah, my week was good thanks.”

But on the nights I’ve been honest? Wow. The difference is palpable.

The tone of the room shifts, and rather than feeling like I’ve spoiled the mood, which is what I’m usually afraid of, it’s like there’s a collective sigh of relief that we can all drop the facade and be real with each other. Each person who shares after that gets a little deeper, a little more vulnerable.

It isn’t easy going first, but it’s worth it.

How many of us have bemoaned the superficiality of our friendships and communities, saying we crave authenticity and those “deep connections” everyone else seems to have?

If we’re not feeling like we have those vulnerable relationships already, maybe it’s our job to create them. And we can make a start by being honest about what we struggle with.

So, What Now?

I didn't think I’d be writing about Elmo this week. Or any week, for that matter. But I’m glad that Elmo reminded me, and all of us, I hope, of how important it is to be honest about what we’re going through: the good and the not so good (and the very, very bad).

Let’s not wait for Elmo to ask us again before we share how we’re doing with each other, okay?

I’ll go first: I’m doing alright. Lately, I’ve been feeling anxious about all the unknowns in my life. The future feels a little scary, and it’s hard not to overthink it all.

How about you? How are you really doing?