But before I get to that, a private word to my friends, the ones whose house was vandalized last night:
Friends, don't read this. Not now. Please know that I love you. I've been thinking about you and our nation and this insanity all day. I've prayed for you and I've cried for you. But please don't read this... yet. It is too soon. The wounds are too fresh. They are too raw. It's not time for what I have here. There will be a time, after you have mourned and processed this violation and come to grips with your new reality. Then, I hope to hear from you and to know if my thoughts are even close. But for now, mourn. For now, grieve. For now, know that you are loved and prayed for. For now, process these events in the light of love. And for now, stop reading.
Our nation is in chaos. Again.
Last night before going to bed, I read a Facebook post claiming to be from a black man who was calling others to join him in moving the riots from the cities to the suburbs. I knew immediately that the source of this post was untrustworthy, but it didn't stop a glimmer of fear from creeping in. And it didn't stop me from praying, "Haven't we had enough..."
See, like you, I live in a town that has been economically depressed by Covid-19. But our town also just experienced its worse "natural" disaster ever. I say natural in quotes, because our flood was the result of 2 failed dams and not heavy rains or hurricanes. Just the same, flooded we were and with devastating effect. Homes are gone. Families are displaced. The entire downtown of the neighboring community was completely demolished. And so I prayed, "Lord, don't let it come here. Not now; we've had enough."
But it came.
This morning I awoke to the news that a small amount of vandalism occurred last night. A few slashed tires, a couple of broken windows. Nothing on the scale of some of the cities across the country, but one of those homes belonged to some close friends. They were innocent in this. They are allies. They love people. They set a good example. They are pillars within our community. But they were struck.
Like so many others have expressed, my first reaction was, "This is not the way to change our country." I was grieved. I was upset. And I was scared that my family might be next.
And then I realized...
That's the point.
For the first time, I had a taste of what it must be like to see your brothers and fathers and sons executed for no other reason than they had the audacity to look the way they look and to be in the place they are at.
And in that moment, I understood.
I still am a pacifist.
I still hold firmly to the old preacher's sermon, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
I still believe that every person, without exception, is a person of value. And that we are more alike than we are different.
I still cling to the idea that we all have a few basic needs, like the need to be loved, accepted, and respected.
And I still want the madness to end.
But now I understand.
One small taste was enough. I cannot imagine living my whole life with that kind of fear hanging over me. And so, while I grieve for my friends, I also grieve for the one who threw the rock into their living room. And while I pray that my friends to be comforted and might feel safe again, I also pray that we might see a day when "all human beings [are] respected as such, regardless of their color."
