Do Not Look Away
Last Wednesday, eyes across the nation were glued to screens, watching as events unfolded on Capitol Hill. Some looked on with shock and fear; others were not surprised. Many were outraged. No matter what emotion you experienced, feelings were fierce—and with good reason.
I struggled to go to bed that night. If I’m being honest, I don’t often pray for our country or our world as a whole. I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but my default is to talk with God about things that are a little closer to home. Things that don’t seem so immense and out of reach. The world is a really, really big place, and my ineptitude when it comes to governments and politics often makes me uncertain what to even ask of God.
But not on Wednesday.
On Wednesday night, as images of men waving Confederate flags and wearing war paint who stormed into the Capitol building replayed in my mind, a deep heaviness settled in my heart. For the state of our country. For all the divisions that led us to that moment. For the atrocities that were being done in the name of Jesus. On Wednesday night, I prayed for our country.
I prayed for peace.
I prayed for wisdom.
I prayed for healing.
But most of all, I prayed that our eyes would be opened.
Thursday morning, I woke up still heavy but the grief was a little less acute. By Friday, the tension had waned even more. And by Friday afternoon, I felt myself wanting to move on, to look away.
I didn’t want simply to take a break to let my soul breathe. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening or that it was over—and I think I am not alone.
Many of us get swept up in the drama of events like last Wednesday. We spill our emotions onto the Internet, getting in virtual fistfights that seem so important in the moment. And don’t get me wrong: There’s a battle waging, for sure, and I’m grateful for those who had already been listening long before Wednesday, who responded quickly and firmly with words of justice and mercy. We cannot be silent when God is mocked and humanity is diminished.
But when the feelings of the moment fade and our daily lives go back to seeming relatively unaffected (a privilege more often experience by those in the majority), the temptation is to look away. To forget. To let our prayers shift back to what is right in front of us.
What I am realizing is that I need to be more intentional about what I’m keeping right in front of me. I need to find better ways to listen and to see, to try to understand not only the stories of my brothers and sisters and the realities of our world, but also what’s unfolding in the greater story of God. Because when it comes to political systems, policies, inequalities, and what Jesus thinks about all of it, I have so much to learn. I have so much yet to see.
So to those of us tempted to turn aside, to pretend our country and our world isn’t in crisis, to forget that God’s good redemption often begins amidst brokenness and confession, may we heed the wise words of Dr. Seuss and remember,
“There are
so many things
you can learn about.
BUT. . . you’ll miss
the best things
if you keep
your eyes shut.”
IN MY NEXT POST:
My less-than-savvy plan for developing eyes that see both the reality and the opportunity for redemption
feature image by Tim Mossholder via unsplash