As I look around the internet at the devastation in our country right now, my emotions are all over the place. Some days, I'm completely numb. I medicate with food and distractions and do not allow myself space to process. Other days, I feel like I am on fire, like my heart will explode from the anger that we've allowed this to be who we are. I know some of you are sick of me posting about such serious topics, but I've never been one for idle chit-chat anyway, so right now, it feels a bit like fiddling while Rome burns to not look it full in the face. So, I numb. I rage. I talk. I read and I write. But today, I am mostly overwhelmingly grieved.
This morning, I couldn't even read words anymore. I just sat and looked at the pictures. Picture after picture, video after video, of darkness, fire, rubble, guns, death. It just continues to rage. On and on. Many have completely dismissed the peaceful protests that preceded and still intersperse within this devastation, or the violence that sparked those protests. I feel strongly that we should not do that - we must not be distracted from the truth within the peaceful protests. But today, I saw it differently. All I could do was look at the devastation and mourn. The pictures seared into my brain and all I could think is, "this is what we've become." This huge pile of burned rubble. Is this who we are? Is this who we want to be? Those people out there, throwing rocks and glass, toting guns, screaming obscenities? They are us. We just do it from the comfort of our living rooms, around our dinner tables, in our churches, lobbing rocks and shooting guns virtually through our smart phones - but we're still destroying one another. We cast dispersion their way, but really, they're us.
(And I recognize that at this point those of you reading this that know me and know my leanings may feel like I'm passing judgment on those with different opinions than mine, but please know this is not the case. I sat looking at those pictures and videos this morning and I saw myself in them as well. I've allowed my anger to overcome my compassion. I've allowed my judgment to overcome my mercy. I am in need of repentance.)
Do we want to be people that just rage? That attack and blame and distort reality to fit our own agendas? Do we want to be people that sit in the comfort of our own homes and determine that we are qualified to be judge and jury? Do we want to be people that tune it all out and preach that it's not real? Do we want to be the priest and the Levite, or do we want to be the Samaritan?
We have allowed this. We have created this. We've turned away from pain when we should have been sitting with others in their sorrow. We have closed our ears to cries for justice, rather than fighting for change alongside those being crushed. We have chosen comfort and isolation over stepping into the hard places of families that desperately needed our support and encouragement. We have looked at others' misfortune, brought on by the oppression of others, and determined that they somehow deserve it, rather than bringing hope.
We have listened to those in power as they have painted the other side as less than human. And we believed them. We began to chant with them, instead of joining our voices with those crying out for relief. We picked our sides and drew up battle lines. These are not partisan issues. We've allowed those in power to twist them into partisan issues, and we've listened to them, believed them, but they are not. These are Kingdom issues.
We've forgotten what we said we believed. Truth, character, love of neighbor, integrity, compassion, mercy, justice, humility. We've forgotten that this world is not our home, our allegiance is not to a country, but to a King. We've forgotten that He has promised to restore all things - that He's asked us to join Him in that restoration. We've taken up swords, yet say we serve the One that told us to lay them down.
We've stopped listening to our King. We've shut our eyes and closed our ears to all but what keeps us comfortable. We cry, "Peace, peace" when there is no peace.
We do not learn. We do not mourn. We do not weep. We do not repent.
We need to look at those pictures, those faces, the devastation, the rubble - and see ourselves.
