When Children Are Killed

My phone lit up this morning with a notification about the CT shooting. An elementary school, really? Oh no... Innocent kids, the ones men should stand up to protect gunned down by a "guardian." There are no stories or realities more tragic than little children murdered.

First my mind rushed to hate & anger. Then it scurried to attempting to imagine a parent's pain. Then to thinking about my nephews - I'd kill to keep them safe. Last my mind ran to sin.

One time in lit class we watched Othello, something about that Shakespearian play terrified me. How Iago plots and plans for the death of his closest friend (who he considers to be his bitter enemy). It's conniving, it's cruel, it's sinful. What scared, and still scares me is knowing the same beast lives in me, I'm capable of such wanton cruelty.

The sinfulness of others - no matter how shocking, evil, or twisted - is the same sinfulness that dwells in each of us. I'm not saying we've all killed children, I am saying we've all hated (which Jesus says is just as damnable); I'm not saying we're all whores, I'm saying we've all lusted (which Jesus equates to adultery).

At the bottom of this all what I am saying is that we are all sin filled.

Yes, the actions done today are atrocious; yes, I feel an intense anger towards the man who kills kids (or any man who isn't a man); yes, I want to see justice done in this life & the next upon him; and yes, this is a devastatingly terrible thing (it's fitting today is cloudy & rainy in Wichita). But this should be a call to repentance from our own personal sins. The beast that dwelt in the gunman dwells in us all, we're all affected by the fall, sin is in us all.

So what now? After trying to understand the depravity of us (you, me, we), where do we go? To the only One who has always been free of sin, to God. To the center of history, to Jesus. To Him who fought the beast in us all and won, won for all who call him Lord. That's where we go today, the day when children were recklessly murdered.

Response to the Colorado Theatre Shooting

How should a Christian respond to the dreadful shooting in Colorado?

As Christians, as people, there ought to be a sense of urgency about life. We don’t know when it’ll end. But we should also not be hardened by this fact.

Should we feel pain for the people who’ve lost? Yes. Should we pray for the man who did this? Yes. Should we weep? If called to, yes. Should we despair at the plight of the world and the evil we see all around us and in us? No. A firm and resounding no.

Why should we feel pain for those who’ve lost? Because they are our fellow man; we inhabit the same time, though we don’t know them they should be shown compassion.

Why should we pray for the man who did this? Because by God’s grace he needs God. There was no discrimination at the cross for murderers, thieves, adulterers and deniers. We, the Church, have been shown grace beyond our understanding and therefore we should show grace beyond human reason. (But to hate the act, the sinful act, is to share in God’s hatred against sin.)

Why should we weep if called to do so? Because we ought to have hearts. Compassion yes, but more than that, we should have love. Which means that in our love for God we see his glory spat on in sinful acts (our own included). We should weep for the brokenness of the world and the devastating nature that the fall has brought about. We should weep because we see vividly the failures of men.

Why should we not despair? Because God has won. The evil around and within us is to be defeated, indeed it has been. Jesus did not die just for the salvation of sinners, no he accomplished much, much more. He died to defeat, to solidly defeat Satan, sin, and death.

The effects we feel and see (especially here) but we must know and believe that God was not caught off guard by a maniac with a gun. Not at all. Is God sovereign? Yes. But asking why God didn’t stop this is asking the wrong question.

We must not ask why he didn’t stop it; rather, we must ask why he planned it. He’s not a tame God, don’t commit the error of thinking him a cuddly bear, but he’s good, he’s a terribly good God.

We must not think too small of God - ever.

(AP Photo/Barry Gutierrez)

Waiting for Dinner

"For the hope beyond the blue."

I'm a cynic. We're all of sure of it (all three of you who read this blog & myself). Good things happen and I'm the fella in the back going, "Just wait, you'll see...."

This has been shown pretty clear the last two days.

Good things: meeting new people and nice conversations. Questionable things: why would they respond that way, or is-there-really-been-a-change types, of questions. In all of them I've sat, or at least seen, from the view of the cynic.

I'm not quite sure this is wrong. It may be.

I'm sure we're probably supposed to see from a middle point, sometimes cynic sometimes pessimist. Looking onto both sides of things and saying, while seeing, the intricacies of both sides. (Or, at least, the possibilities therein.)

But this is still hard for me. (I'm just writing as it comes....)

I know people to be broken, to be faulty, to be sin filled. I know myself to be the same way, most definitely. I know not to put my hope in anyone, ever. But that doesn't stop me. I still return to doing it again, and again, and again... etc.

I know my hope should be in Jesus Christ and none other ("My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness."). And I know that my biggest problem (sin/damnation/the just wrath of God) has already been taken care of by Jesus.

But I also know that the point I made before is still terribly true - I'm a sinner.

The middle ground is foggy, and the ditches seem to be homey. I'm stupidly comfortable in the broken vessel I inhabit. I like to talk about me more than God....

But this I know with all my heart... his wounds have paid my ransom.

O my God. Thank God.

So whie I wait for dinner to finishing cooking, I'll look to the bloody, gory, beautiful cross by the grace and mercy of God.