In this world full of wounds and desolation, we can only hobble forward, like in The Lord of the Rings when Sam miserably asks Frodo: “What sort of tale have we fallen into?”.
Just look at all the “wounds and desolation”:
2001: The September 11 attacks, USA
2002: Bombing incidents, India
2003: Bombing incidents, Iraq
2004: Madrid train bombings, Spain
2005: London subway bombings, England
2006: Mumbai train bombings, India
2007: Bombing attacks, Pakistan
2012: Houla massacre, Syria
2013: Westgate shopping mall attack, Kenya
2014: School attack, Nigeria
2015: Paris attacks, France
Perhaps you are already used to it—you get up one morning to find that some corner of the world has changed forever. They are weeping, they are helpless, they are caught in the middle of an uncertain struggle.
Perhaps you are already used to it—trying your best not to think about the possibility of this kind of tragedy happen to you. If something did happen, what could you really do about it, anyway?
Perhaps you are already used to it—you think about it sometimes when you’re alone: Where can we escape to? Everywhere we look is full of the unknown, it has all grown wild and there’s no feeling of security anywhere.
We angrily shake our fists. We talk about how much those people deserve to die because they have no kindness in them. We hate the terrorists. We fear them. We hope that someone would just wipe them out. And then one day we hear a different voice. A voice that seems to awaken something within us…but it’s unclear exactly what that something is.
“Bad guys are not very nice. And…we have to be careful…we have to change houses.”
“Oh no, don’t worry. We don’t need to move. France is our home”
“But there’s bud guys, daddy!”
“Yes, but there’s bad guys everywhere.”
“They have guns. They can shoot us!”
“It’s ok. They might have guns, but we have flowers.”
“The flowers and the candles are here to protect us.” (Interview after Paris attacks)
Isn’t it this same way in our relationships? When we’re hurt we instinctively choose to run away, whether it’s in our hearts or with our actions. We try to build a wall—we try to disguise ourselves. We don’t want a sincere apology and we don’t want complete reconciliation in the relationship. We just want to pretend nothing ever happened. Sometimes, when we see that person, the harsh words they used to sting us come flashing back and our heart cowers for a moment—yet on the outside we’re calm and collected. Our conversations and laughter lacks a genuine care, replaced by a hint of passive aggression.
What does our faith say about this? When the whole world had picked up stones, ready to hurl them at each other, Someone laid a hand on my shoulder and said, “Child, neither do I condemn you”. My angry fist slowly loosens and I turn to face my Jesus, only to discover He is already beaten and bruised. And yet, He’s still smiling with His arms open wide…waiting for me. When the voices of popular opinion are all promoting the use of mass violence to conquer the world, my Lord stands there behind Pilate. He’s wearing a crown of thorns. His shoulders are draped with a purple robe. As mankind moves back and forth in a cycle of revenge, Jesus is being nailed to the cross. His arms spread wide, just like my mom would do when she would say, “I love you this much!”.
When I think of this, I know my heart has already been conquered by the love of Jesus and it is hidden away in my Lord. Therefore, I have the ability to learn to embrace those around me, even though I know I’m giving them the power to hurt me. When faced with incidents of terrorism, I choose not to let myself be filled with hate. They will not win my heart. When my heart is hidden with my Lord, they cannot take it away.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” ~ John 10:10
In this world full of wounds and desolation, we can only hobble forward, like in The Lord of the Rings when Sam miserably asks Frodo: “What sort of tale have we fallen into?”.
But when I look at my Lord, my heart knows this is going to be a beautiful story.
What is beauty?
Beauty is flower-like weakness
It’s the fragrance shed after being crushed
Beauty is the silent forming of a scab after injury
It’s an irresistible embrace, even before the scab has finished forming
It’s coming from the embrace bloodied and bruised, yet blessed
Beauty, a quiet collection of tears
The expunging of anger that ought to be
The sifting of scalding criticism
Morphing it into profound perspective
What is beauty?
Beauty is a lamb-like innocence
It’s being transformed while still bearing scars
Author: Esther Lee
