The Morning After Another Tragic Event

The morning after...I'll continue to pray, to mourn for those I do not know who are going into unforeseen pain and hard-to-answer questions. I'll hold loved ones closer. I'll fight the fear of the active shooter reality, for fear steals life. I'll seek beauty, truth, and virtue, if only it were that easy.

I'll not judge entire people groups nor world religions because that interrupts the good that still exists, and disrespects my theology of God's love for all people. It also seems unfair, unbalanced, or poorly informed. I'll focus on the many vulnerable in our world, and continue to support the efforts of World Relief. I'll trust in God, who still miraculously redeems and restores in pursuit of ultimate shalom.

http://worldreliefgardengrove.org/     https://worldrelief.org/

I'll not blame media or political parties because that distracts me from my responsibilities. That blinds me to the privilege of being present in this moment. I can make the world better with small acts of kindness. In the long run, that may have more impact than legislation.

And then there are the questions.

• The question of where is God in the midst of such suffering. I don't have a satisfying answer. Yet. But I'm OK with asking and resting in not knowing. That does not bring me doubt. It draws me closer.
• I'll still question the accessibility of weapons. 
• The question of evil looms large. 
• The question of why these situations have become so common in this land of the free and the brave is a timely question deserving response. 
• The question of these attacks in other parts of the world that freeze us all in tragedy is crushing. 

 But the question of how we go on to honor lives lost through making lives matter is my more urgent question again this morning. Again. That word "again" is haunting on this morning after.
I agree with Larry Wilmore, The Nightly Show, "This has really got to stop."

 

Control, Trust, and Today

The tension in the land between control and trust is sometimes fierce. Accept that. The crossover from control to trust is battle or surrender. Rest will come. The sense of fear, of risk, of threat is sometimes staggering. Grant grace to yourself. 

Looking at the past, faith stands strong. Looking to the future, faith can falter. Living in the present moment, faith stays focused. Give us this day our daily ________ . Whatever you need today, may you find it. 

We are promised enough for today. The lilies and the sparrows demonstrate it, as we are told in ancient writings. Breath deep. Repeat.

For Lent - Embrace

This post was written by my friend, Tara. I want to share it with you:

I recently read a blog that recounted the story of a woman going to visit a friend of hers that had recently lost her 21 month old baby.  She didn’t know what to say – she said, “I was at a loss of words because of her loss.”  She was astounded to realize that when she saw her friend that it was her words that brought her comfort.  Her friend, the one that just lost her precious baby, brought words of comfort to the author.  These were the words.

You know, you’re a mom.

These words came as she was recounting the story of the hours that surrounded the death of her daughter and unable to express her feelings, looked at her friend and said,

You know, you’re a mom.

And suddenly she knew.  She didn’t know what it was like to lose a child, but she knew the joy her friend felt when holding that precious baby and so she could imagine what it must have been like to have that taken away.

She knew, she was a mom.

These words have come back to me over and over since I read it.  I was at my son’s football game a few weeks ago and there were 2 boys racing on the bleachers.  Of course we parents that were watching knew it was going to end badly, and it did.  In an effort to jump one of the benches the boy that was in the lead tripped and tumbled over the bench and fell awkwardly onto the cement.  He immediately started to cry and a woman that was nearby jumped up to help him.  His parents rushed over and carried their crying, skinned kneed boy back to their seats.  And I thought,

I know, I’m a mom.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook that her dog of many years passed away.  She posted pictures of the cute little pup from his puppy years on up through his adult years.  And I thought,

I know, I’m a dog owner too.

A friend whispered in my ear before church one day, “I just found out that I have breast cancer and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”  Tears flooded my eyes and I thought,

I know, I’m a woman too.

When I hear of friends that are going through the pain of losing a parent.  I think,

I know, I’m a daughter too.

I see teachers having a tough day with their students.  Life circumstances have made their personal lives very difficult.  Their patience level is worn very thin so that by the time they get into the classroom they are not the greatest role models for their students.  And I think,

I know, I’m a teacher too.

I see a man and his wife outside a store playing an instrument and asking for money because they are out of work and have little to nothing.  I look at them and think,

I know, I’m human too.

We may not know the exact circumstances that people face, but we can empathize because at the very core of who we are, we have the ability to understand because we are human too.  Despite our socio-economic or ethnic or gender differences,

We know, we’re human too.

During the Lenten season, people generally give up something to remind them of the sacrifice that Jesus made for them.  But, I want to embrace something.  I want to embrace my humanness and be able to look at the other human beings I see, other children of God, and be able to say,

I know, I’m human too.

Have a good day fellow human

More about our guest post contributor: Tara is a creative writer, actor, leader of children's church, and wife and mother to two awesome kids. She also loves the family dog, a young chocolate lab. She lives in Southern California where she cooks amazing recipes and practices ballet. She is my fun and caring friend.


Happy Easter, everyone -- especially us humans!