My youngest grandson Jakson is goofy cute. Jakson is 1. He
has too many teeth for his little mouth. His hair is so blonde that you can see
through it. And his head (to accommodate that powerful brain of his, I’m sure)
is three sizes too big for his body. It looks like a pumpkin on a broomstick.
But there is something about his smile that lights up a room. And when he
waddles though the mall heads turn to enjoy him going by. I know I am anything
but objective about this but Jakson has a beauty in the midst of all of his
awkwardness that captures your attention. At least it seems that way to his
PoppyC.
This week I sat horrified in front of the TV as the news
unfolded of the massacre in Aurora, Colorado. You know the story of a lone
gunman walking into a crowded movie theater and opening fire. At least 70
people were shot with a dozen fatalities. Like most of America, I wept for the
families of those senselessly slain young people. I prayed for the soul of one
so depraved that he could unleash that kind of inhumanity on his fellow human
beings. And I groaned for the brokenness of a fallen world that created the
backdrop against which this all too familiar tragedy played out. A cafeteria in
Texas, a high school in Columbine, a classroom building at Virginia Tech, over
the last 30 years in our country alone we have rehearsed this gruesome and
grotesque scene until we can describe the players almost before the gunfire
ceases. Yet, as often as we have experienced it we are each time in utter shock
that this would happen again. Horrible. Ugly. Terrifying.
If I am not careful I can succumb to the horror and
hopelessness of those stories. I begin to see only dark, demonic, destructive
forces at work in my world. I recoil from the anger and awfulness that surely
must possess an individual to drive him to such an act. I begin to look at
everyone around me with suspicion and fear. And I only see the ugliness that we
have become as a people, as a planet. The cruelty of one human being to another
has been a theme of our reflection since Cain slew Able. We are no longer
surprised at the capacity within our own kind to unleash damage and devastation
on, well, on us. And it is no consolation to remember that this kind of
nightmare is not exclusive to America. Mosques and churches, busses and
embassies all around the world have witnessed such hellish moments. There seems
to be no limit and no end to the atrocities that we commit. It is all I can
see. If I am not careful I go there. But I can’t.
For one thing, I don’t believe we can survive as a culture
or as individuals if we allow ourselves to sink to that level of despair. King
Solomon came close to that point when he wrote in Ecclesiastes 1, “Meaningless,
meaningless, utterly meaningless. Everything is meaningless.” To begin to believe
that this is all there is, that the world is now populated and permeated only
with death and destruction, that all that is good about life is either gone or
so overwhelmed by evil that it is irrelevant is to leave no space for hope or a
willingness to work for change. I think the purpose of chaos is to cause us to
quit and to only see the horror makes me want to do that.
Secondly, more importantly, it just isn’t true. When I begin
to only see the awful, terrible, ugliness I am seeing a false image. God is
good. His creation is good. There is redemption still at work and “greater is
He that is in us than he that is in the world.” The wanton wickedness that we
see is the exception and not the rule. In fact the very shock and sadness that
it brings up in us is proof that this is not who we are, this is not are
nature. We are better than this as a people and as persons. The lie of the
enemy is that what happened at that movie theater is symbolic of all of society
today. Not true! Not true! Not true! Good not only still exists but it still
reigns, and always will because the One who reigns is good. Like the goofy
beauty of my grandson, there is still something good and right and noble about
the world we live in. The positive still far outweighs the negative. We, the
people of God, must, we must, proclaim there is still Good News and not
surrender our message of redemption to the violent, viral You Tube clips, or
the scandalous sound bytes if the evening news.
So, how do we find hope in the hopeless? How do we avoid the
doom and despair that screams at us from the headlines and from our hearts?
Where is the beauty buried beneath the bloodbath of last week or the terrorism
of tomorrow?
First, we step in to look closely at the miracle moments of
the event in front of us. Several years ago we had the widow of Todd Beamer
speak at our church. Todd was one of the heroes of Flight 93 on September 11,
2001 who apparently charged the cabin of that doomed flight and caused the
terrorists to divert in to a rural field rather than the supposed target of the
White House. Last night I watched the stories of at least three young men in
that Aurora theatre that used their own bodies to shield their girlfriends,
giving their lives for others. Stephanie Davies stayed with her wounded friend
and applied pressure to her bleeding neck the entire time the gunman was
walking up and down the aisles of the smoky theatre. She saved her friends
life. Jarell Brooks ran back to up the aisle to help a terrified mother and her
two young children escape. Out of almost every story of murder and mayhem
arises an even more powerful one of heroism and sacrifice. It is as if the good
is saying, “You cannot win. I will use your blackness to illuminate the fact
that people are still good, that love still triumphs.” In fact, in some ways
the more atrocious the evil the more brightly shines the good. That’s what we
hold on to in moments like these.
Secondly, we step back to look carefully at the context of
our faith. We live in a fallen, frightening world but it is undergoing the “birth
pains of redemption” as Paul says in Romans. God is victorious over evil from
the Garden to the Grave. At the fall of Adam and Eve God clothed them and gave
them a promise. When Cain killed his brother God gave him a mark to protect
him. All through Old Testament history God works for the redemption of His
people. Until finally in the New Testament, at the Cross and that horrible,
ugly moment when even His Son is the victim of evil, God raises Him from the
Grave and gains the ultimate upper hand over the darkness. These awful moments
in time remind us that this is the very reason Christ came. The wickedness of
the world only serves to prove the significance of the Savior. The event in
Aurora, and all the other mind numbing, hope shattering events of our day,
focus our faith like a laser beam on to the only One who can make a difference.
As someone said, “A messy world like ours obviously needs a messiah.”
When it gets right down to it, we see in these horrific
moments what we are looking for. If we are looking for hopelessness and
despair, it is certainly there to be seen. But if we have our “eyes fixed on
Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith,” we see God still at work, still
redeeming even in the darkest of nights. It’s like Jakson. You might see a
goofy little fellow with head too big and teeth too many. I see the most
beautiful little guy in the whole world. That is what I am looking for. And today,
even in the horrible headlines and the numbing nightly news, I am choosing to
look for Jesus.