Are you ready? It’s a big question. If you answer it with a resolute “Yes!”, take heed my warnings. You’re not. This is the big leagues where the safety is off and there’s no going back. Reset button? Nope. This is where things start to matter as the seconds tick by and the days grow older. At least these are the things what the world tells you. You know what?
Screw the world.
I wish I could follow that up with some kind of thesis or theory that helps assuage the fears the previous introductory paragraph haunts me with in the quiet moments. But I got nothing. The world is a very unpleasant place. It’s filled with hate. It boils over with bullying one side over the other. It gleefully celebrates in dismissing, disparaging and destroying. It is a place of moral relativism. There is very little wrong or right anymore. We’re content to watch disasters from a distance, post hashtags on social media in support of things and to reason that we clearly know what the right response is to everything in the world – even if we’ve never experienced it personally.
I’m as guilty of it as anyone. That’s why I sat down to pour into my keyboard.
To try. To hope. To believe. To make sense. To see.
And it’s hard. Because I go back to school in just under a week. I’ll be back on campus walking the hallways, digging into homework and balancing homework with actual work that pays me money. And all I can see is the two year journey that weighs so very heavily on my shoulders, my heart and my mind. This break from school has allowed me to look at the world around me again without distraction. And it hurts.
Men were killed in Paris this week because of something they drew. Their lives were ended in bloody gunfire because a pencil was put to paper to express a feeling. The war against ISIS continues with marginal successes measured in air strikes and bombing runs but they march on. Two police officers were murdered in New York because of someone wanting to do something about everything. People on social media cheered their killing. In response to Paris a vocal minority (10% of one billion – that’s not a minority bytheway) suggested they had it coming and that it should serve as a lesson to the rest of us. Don’t profane or we will kill you. We want to kill you. You will submit.
A man in New York was choked out and died. The officer was not charged and in a small ray of hope both sides of the political spectrum raised their hackles and expressed sound disbelief. The moment passed. Then it returned to protests, blocking streets, invading brunches and screaming at people because they didn’t understand. We took 140 characters and threw them at people declaring that blood was on their hands. They were the problem.
And that’s not even the worst of the news events that come and gone. Murders. Killings. A child thrown off a bridge. Unspeakable genocides beyond our borders.
I talked with a friend who has felt God’s absence lately. And I shared that I’ve experienced it too. It’s not unusual. God sometimes says yes. Sometimes no. Other times maybe. Or He doesn’t say anything. The Israelites went 400 years without hearing a thing from God. But it hurts. There is pain in that emptiness.
So I don’t have a cure all for the maladies of our community. I don’t have a prescription for our nation. I lack the wisdom to suggest what would cure the world of it’s troubles. But I do know this. After all those years of silence…there was an answer. It was not how the question was expected to be answered. But the silence faded and a boy was born.
Our answers don’t always come with big signs or simple manuals. But eventually there’ll be an answer.
That’s where I’m at today. Onward and ever forward I go seeking Him.