Four long weeks.
Four dark weeks.
Four violent weeks.
Four weeks full of death and despair.
Four weeks full of innocent men, women, and children being gunned down.
Four weeks culminating in yesterday's slaying of the men we trust to protect us.
It has been a tragic month.
To be perfectly honest, this month has just left me asking, why?
Why is there so much senseless destruction?
Why were these lives taken so soon?
Why can't we feel safe anymore?
It's been a long Advent...but now it's over.
Yea Lord we greet thee! Born this happy morning!
Jesus to thee be all glory given! Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing!
O come let us adore him! Christ, our Lord!
And yet I can't help but wonder, how can we proclaim this to be a joyous day when our brothers and sisters in Portland, Newtown, and Webster are still mourning their losses?
Jesus came to redeem us...to liberate us from injustice. Where is their justice?
Where is their hope?
Where is their peace?
Where is their joy?
Where is their love?
No amount of theodicy can bring back their losses, so coming up with anything to say at all is proving to be difficult (hence the jumbled up nature of this post)
However, there has been one mantra running through my head to keep me sane during these dark times. It comes from a poem penned by Henry Wadsforth Longfellow in 1863. Written during the Civil War, all hope appeared to be lost. The country was broken in twain. Sons were fighting against their fathers. Friends were fighting against friends. It was very easy to think during that time that there would be no peace on earth. But Longfellow writes:
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth good-will to men
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.
The right shall prevail.
Christmas isn't the end of a journey, but the beginning.
A new beginning, which can breathe into us new hope.
Christ is born. Christ is born indeed. Alleluia!
Christ is born, and he will grow up to heal lepers.
Give sight to the blind.
Raise the dead.
And one day, wipe every tear from every eye.
Merry Christmas!
No comments:
Post a Comment