Grief and hope
Oh, America.
I hardly know where to start, except we've been here before, too many times to count. Two more shootings. More lives destroyed by hate. More hearts shattered as all sides scream louder for change and the one thing that might solve the problem.
We are broken. And every time it happens I am seventeen, just home from school on an April afternoon, watching footage of Columbine. It was the first time hate hit home for me. But it wouldn't be the last.
I love this nation, its beauty, its freedom, its opportunity. Our history is humbling and fascinating, liberty and progress driven along by sweat and the providence of God. It wasn't so long ago. Yet just like that, we are floundering in our own entitlement and illusion of supremacy. Destroying ourselves.
While my mind knows the umbrella answer, that we chose our way instead of God's, my heart still screams why. Why do we so quickly take up arms, go on the defensive, toss around blame? What makes us go that way instead of kindness and respect? Is it that we are scared of our differences? Because we are all heart, soul, and spirit, body, bones, and blood. Why is it so hard to choose love?
Gun reform and mental health advancements will not fix this.
Love could, if we would all embrace what we are truly made for. By God's own love He made us, through His love He saved us, and because of His love He calls us to let that love overflow ourselves and spread out into the world.
What would the world be like? There's such an ache in my heart to know.
But I won't, at least this side of Heaven. As sure as the promise of God's abiding presence with us is the assurance that things on the planet are only going to get worse.
This picture has engraved itself on my brain. It's made me think hard lately about my relationship with the Lord and the Heaven He has in store for me.
My vision of stepping into Heaven has always been stunning light and color, indescribably beautiful music, and at the sight of the throne a quick drop to my knees. Humility and wonder as the the Savior smiles and maybe nods my way as if to say, you can stay.
I have the hardest time comprehending God's love for me. I don't deserve it and never could. How on earth could He not be so disappointed in me for screwing up over and over and over? I know Him, I drink in His blessings every day, I believe in His power, yet I refuse to turn my sin and myself over to Him for the victory He promises.
Who would want this failure?
But that picture. Is that really how He loves me?
Maybe when I get there, Jesus won't just watch as I'm admitted, but will run open-armed to welcome me. Maybe my heart will finally unclench as all the fear and anxiety of this broken world falls away powerless. Maybe there will actually be tears in Heaven, because I can't imagine being able to control the overwhelming joy, the gratitude, the relief of finally being home.
Until then, I am a wandering foreigner in a land of hate. It won't stop and my heart will break for my nation every time. I'll pray for ways to ooze love and for the courage to be who I'm made to be.
Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope fully on the grace to be given to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at His coming. As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as He who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.”
Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as strangers here in reverent fear. For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ.1 Peter 1:13-19
I hardly know where to start, except we've been here before, too many times to count. Two more shootings. More lives destroyed by hate. More hearts shattered as all sides scream louder for change and the one thing that might solve the problem.
We are broken. And every time it happens I am seventeen, just home from school on an April afternoon, watching footage of Columbine. It was the first time hate hit home for me. But it wouldn't be the last.
I love this nation, its beauty, its freedom, its opportunity. Our history is humbling and fascinating, liberty and progress driven along by sweat and the providence of God. It wasn't so long ago. Yet just like that, we are floundering in our own entitlement and illusion of supremacy. Destroying ourselves.
While my mind knows the umbrella answer, that we chose our way instead of God's, my heart still screams why. Why do we so quickly take up arms, go on the defensive, toss around blame? What makes us go that way instead of kindness and respect? Is it that we are scared of our differences? Because we are all heart, soul, and spirit, body, bones, and blood. Why is it so hard to choose love?
Gun reform and mental health advancements will not fix this.
Love could, if we would all embrace what we are truly made for. By God's own love He made us, through His love He saved us, and because of His love He calls us to let that love overflow ourselves and spread out into the world.
What would the world be like? There's such an ache in my heart to know.
But I won't, at least this side of Heaven. As sure as the promise of God's abiding presence with us is the assurance that things on the planet are only going to get worse.
This picture has engraved itself on my brain. It's made me think hard lately about my relationship with the Lord and the Heaven He has in store for me.
My vision of stepping into Heaven has always been stunning light and color, indescribably beautiful music, and at the sight of the throne a quick drop to my knees. Humility and wonder as the the Savior smiles and maybe nods my way as if to say, you can stay.
I have the hardest time comprehending God's love for me. I don't deserve it and never could. How on earth could He not be so disappointed in me for screwing up over and over and over? I know Him, I drink in His blessings every day, I believe in His power, yet I refuse to turn my sin and myself over to Him for the victory He promises.
Who would want this failure?
But that picture. Is that really how He loves me?
Maybe when I get there, Jesus won't just watch as I'm admitted, but will run open-armed to welcome me. Maybe my heart will finally unclench as all the fear and anxiety of this broken world falls away powerless. Maybe there will actually be tears in Heaven, because I can't imagine being able to control the overwhelming joy, the gratitude, the relief of finally being home.
Until then, I am a wandering foreigner in a land of hate. It won't stop and my heart will break for my nation every time. I'll pray for ways to ooze love and for the courage to be who I'm made to be.
Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope fully on the grace to be given to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at His coming. As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as He who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.”
Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as strangers here in reverent fear. For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ.1 Peter 1:13-19
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