Not a Tame Lion (Idolatry of Conformity)

Lion

photo by Robek, Creative Commons

I have always believed in chaos

Jesus did not come to bring order out of chaos are wrong.

He did not come to bring peace on earth, but a sword

to set son against father and father against son,

mother against daughter and daughter against mother

Order can be just as much a tool of the Hell as chaos

Is Calvin’s Geneva holy? Ask Miguel Servetus.

Was the Puritan city on the hill more holy than the “savages’ wilderness” it replaced?

Is Stalin’s Russia holier than Somalia’s warlords?

Our idolatry of order builds walls around God,

We tie up heavy burdens for our neighbors

and lift not one finger to help bear them.

Our walls cannot contain God,

But they can keep his beloved children out.

They are different. They do not measure up.

They are poor. They dress funny.

They speak with bad grammar.

They have tattoos.

They are sinners.

They are not like us.

But Aslan is not a tame Lion, and Jesus is not a tame God.

Let his wildness in

Let it kick over the moneychanger’s tables

Let it tear the veil of our hearts

Let it shatter every wall.

Dear God, please, shatter every wall.

Amen.

Words for the Sandy Hook Massacre

Grieving angel statue

Angel of Grief by Timothy Valentine, Creative Commons

Yesterday I wrote that I had no words, only prayers and mourning for the victims of the shooting in Colorado.

That wasn’t entirely true. As I watched my Twitter feed scroll by, as I browsed through Facebook, as I read comments at blog posts like this one (Rachel Held Evans’ painful yet beautiful post about grieving together), I found that I had many, many words.

Sterile, unhelpful words about the effectiveness of various gun control measures and the appropriateness of bringing politics up so soon.

Resentful, self-righteous words about the massive outpouring of public grief at the death of 20 American children and the collective silence and apathy over the death of 170 Pakistani and Yemeni children at the hands of our Predator drones.

Suspicious, disbelieving words about the President being overcome by emotion at the death of children, despite his culpability in the drone strikes.

Cynical, jaded words speculating as to just what rhetorical use politicians, preachers, and media personalities will put this to.

None of these words is worthy. None of these words is righteous. These words must not be said, must not be written, while the blood is still fresh, the wounds are still raw, and the bulk of the details are still unknown.

And being right is never an excuse for using someone else’s tragedy as a soapbox. They did not live and die so you or I could hammer our righteous talking points home.  The killer already mortally assaulted their humanity. We should not further degrade it.

And so I urge you to cast aside these words, or at least defer them. Take time to respect and share in the victims’ grief. Compassionately suffer with them.

If you can, imagine the inner torment of the killer. Consider what forces, psychological or spiritual, may have driven him to such violent, murderous madness.

Listen, and experience the sorrow. Don’t think about what you’re going to say next. And forgive those who fail to do the same. Please forgive me if I fail.

And pray, please pray.