I can’t help it. Just three weeks ago I sat down to write my blog for The Spire right after the Orlando massacre. And here I am, again. Again!
It’s 4am Friday and 5 Dallas police officers are dead. 6 wounded.
Over and over and over and over and over again, I wonder.
Where’s the tipping point? What does it take to stir our compassion? Angry tears? The right images on TV? What does it take for us to react, to do something—anything? What?
It could be Madison.
Boom, boom, boom. Again. Again. Again.
Pulse nightclub massacre.
Baghdad mosque bombing.
Alton Sterling shot by police in Baton Rouge, Louisiana Tuesday.
Philando Castile shot by police in St. Anthony, Minnesota late Wednesday.
And now Dallas.
Spoiler alert: Orange Is The New Black, Season 4 on Netflix. I finished the last two episodes this week.
Tragically, an inmate is killed as prison guards overreact to a peaceful protest.
The response from prison officials is heinous, shocking, and very real. Art imitates life. It’s too real. Irreversible. Things can’t be unsaid, can’t be undone.
You can’t roll back the sausage machine and get a pig.
Toast Can’t Never Be Bread Again.
My morning devotional prayer resonates (J. Philip Newell) loud and clear:
The blessings of sun
the blessings of moon
the blessings of east and of west
to guide us on the way
to lighten our eyes
to strengthen our will and our loving.
The blessings of earth
the blessing of air
the blessings of fire and of water
to fill us with heaven
to free us with mercy
to stir us with flames of compassion.
Seeing the world through a “Christian” lens demands our response. It stirs our compassion. It compels us to action, to wake up, and to teach our children what we evidently cannot seem to figure out.
Why do we keep burning the toast?
Grace & Peace,