I'm at a loss to understand how anyone can look at the world we live in and think people by themselves can make things better.
We live in a fallen world.
I can measure my life in tragedies. Public ones. World-changing, horrible events that stole breath from my body and stuttered my heart.
Except recently. I was awakened sometime early Friday morning with a news notification on my phone that a shooting had taken place in Colorado. I worried briefly about my sister and her family, but when no call came, I went back to bed. After my alarm woke me up, I checked the news, saw the reports of the deaths and injuries - and I went about my day. I felt a momentary grief, said a prayer for the families and went back to my printing projects. Why?
Because this kind of thing doesn't really surprise me, not anymore.
I can still remember the first time my innocence was stolen. 1995 - a truck exploded outside of the federal building in Oklahoma City. It was incomprehensible to me, a nine-year-old child. I'm certain my parents did their best to shield me, but even back then, the images were everywhere. As more was revealed, the perpetrator caught, I found myself asking a question. If one human being could do that, what else were they capable of? What was I capable of?
I felt no small amount of satisfaction when Timothy McVeigh was executed for his crimes. I'm ashamed that I'm not more ashamed of that fact.
Just a few months later, I saw firsthand what can happen when one group of people hates another group of people because of ideals, religion, politics, wealth, history... Take your pick. I already knew the world was a crappy place to live, but as I sat in tenth grade history watching towers fall, I understood for the first time just how doomed it was.
And yet people forget. They compartmentalize. They lay blame in all the wrong places. And sometimes they just don't care.
I don't watch the news now. I can't. I read headlines on my phone, and even that makes me want to hide in my apartment, away from the world. I feel sick to my stomach, and yet I wonder why it bothers me. It's nothing new, after all.
But at the same time, it makes me want to start screaming at everyone.
Don't you understand? The world isn't a good place. Things aren't getting better all the time. Living a 'green' life isn't going to fix things. Politics isn't going to fix things. Tolerance isn't going to fix things. Humanity cannot fix things.
I want my innocence back. I want to be able to breathe again, to feel my heart beat in a steady rhythm. I want to be able to allow myself more than a moment of righteous indignation at senseless acts of violence. I want to know that if I start crying at what I see around me, I'll be able to stop one day.
Why do I do what I do? Because there is Someone who can fix things. Someone who can take screwed up, broken people and put them back together. Only One who stood against Death and won. The only One who can make this brief life worth living.
Why can't everyone else understand that?
Saturday Addendum: It occurred to me that this world would have ended a long time ago if some people didn't know there was hope. It doesn't take too long to realize that the hole in our souls can't be filled by sex, drugs, money, power, fame or anything else this world has to offer. It is only through belief in and obedience to Jesus Christ that we have any hope at all. We as Christians just need to do a better job of letting other people know that.
We live in a fallen world.
I can measure my life in tragedies. Public ones. World-changing, horrible events that stole breath from my body and stuttered my heart.
Except recently. I was awakened sometime early Friday morning with a news notification on my phone that a shooting had taken place in Colorado. I worried briefly about my sister and her family, but when no call came, I went back to bed. After my alarm woke me up, I checked the news, saw the reports of the deaths and injuries - and I went about my day. I felt a momentary grief, said a prayer for the families and went back to my printing projects. Why?
Because this kind of thing doesn't really surprise me, not anymore.
I can still remember the first time my innocence was stolen. 1995 - a truck exploded outside of the federal building in Oklahoma City. It was incomprehensible to me, a nine-year-old child. I'm certain my parents did their best to shield me, but even back then, the images were everywhere. As more was revealed, the perpetrator caught, I found myself asking a question. If one human being could do that, what else were they capable of? What was I capable of?
I felt no small amount of satisfaction when Timothy McVeigh was executed for his crimes. I'm ashamed that I'm not more ashamed of that fact.
Just a few months later, I saw firsthand what can happen when one group of people hates another group of people because of ideals, religion, politics, wealth, history... Take your pick. I already knew the world was a crappy place to live, but as I sat in tenth grade history watching towers fall, I understood for the first time just how doomed it was.
And yet people forget. They compartmentalize. They lay blame in all the wrong places. And sometimes they just don't care.
I don't watch the news now. I can't. I read headlines on my phone, and even that makes me want to hide in my apartment, away from the world. I feel sick to my stomach, and yet I wonder why it bothers me. It's nothing new, after all.
But at the same time, it makes me want to start screaming at everyone.
Don't you understand? The world isn't a good place. Things aren't getting better all the time. Living a 'green' life isn't going to fix things. Politics isn't going to fix things. Tolerance isn't going to fix things. Humanity cannot fix things.
I want my innocence back. I want to be able to breathe again, to feel my heart beat in a steady rhythm. I want to be able to allow myself more than a moment of righteous indignation at senseless acts of violence. I want to know that if I start crying at what I see around me, I'll be able to stop one day.
Why do I do what I do? Because there is Someone who can fix things. Someone who can take screwed up, broken people and put them back together. Only One who stood against Death and won. The only One who can make this brief life worth living.
Why can't everyone else understand that?
Saturday Addendum: It occurred to me that this world would have ended a long time ago if some people didn't know there was hope. It doesn't take too long to realize that the hole in our souls can't be filled by sex, drugs, money, power, fame or anything else this world has to offer. It is only through belief in and obedience to Jesus Christ that we have any hope at all. We as Christians just need to do a better job of letting other people know that.
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