I Don’t Know What to Call This

Call it therapy.

The Google news feed was all about bad things today: the Boston bombing, an Earthquake in Iran, two schools on lockdown for shooters (I think everything turned out fine because I can’t find anything more about them), a congressman receiving a poisoned letter.

There’s lots of ways to react to all these negative situations. The easiest is to sit at home powerless in front of the TV and feed your paranoia. It’s also easy to get angry and search for justice. The righteous pursuit of justice in situations like this, I think, is one of the greatest testimonies to the truth of religion. It is the least-fallen part of men and women welling up.

I’ll be honest, my first thoughts are not virtuous. I’m still of the opinion that one of the best things that could happen would be for somebody to catch the killer and let that little boy’s father have 5 minutes alone with him and a baseball bat. I think that would be justice. But I also have a small voice telling me that I’m wrong, and eventually I’ll listen to it.

I think the closest I can get to finding something good in times like this is the realization that I could have been just as evil, that sometimes I am just as evil. Human beings can be dark, as dark as it gets.

But we can also be good. The human response that went out, that is still going out, sending love and support and prayers to Boston is fantastic.

I’m rambling. I don’t know what to make of it. Because in two weeks it will devolve. It has already devolved into pettiness. I’ve already seen the articles arguing about the proper response and blaming those who responded improperly (it’s shameless trolling, really as I saw one commentator point out; the article is practicing what it’s condemning).  And others asking why we’re upset about Boston and not what the U.S. is doing in the Middle East with our drones. We’re already reloading. There’s nothing good or bad but a little thinking can make it worse.

When something big happens in our sea of confusion, we’ll swell up for a few days, reach toward heaven, love each other for a moment, but it won’t last. That’s where my religion comes in. I would like to think that if I had been there I would have run to help my fellow human beings and not away to save my own skin. But I do know, that here, in my house, after the sun has gone down I will spend time wrestling, like Jacob, with my God. And when the sun rises I’ll go to work, and pray for Boston and Iran, and my neighbors and my students, and my country and my family. That it would not take days like this to make us search for hope. Even so, Come Lord Jesus.

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About Derrick

Derrick lives and works in South Carolina where he teaches English at a technical college and raises his two small children with his wife, Danielle.
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2 Responses to I Don’t Know What to Call This

  1. Mark says:

    Derrick, I enjoy following your blog and agree with you on this one. I am still at the stage where I want to react with vengence towards the perpetrators of this heinous crime and hold no hope that my opinion will change regardless of any amount of time that passes. To defile our freedom by targeting innocent people with such disregard for human life enrages me and reminds me of why I joined the armed forces following 9/11. There again, even in my attempt to react militarily, I enlisted as a medic. This must mean that on some level, I lean towards a hope of helping my fellow man in the face of trajedy in a positive and loving way. It is grounding to be remninded that ultimately, we do need to continue to go on loving and hoping for the grace of God to alleviate what we cannot fathom in the form of forgiveness for a fellow sinner, whatever the motivation for the attempt at destruction of God’s will. Thank you for the reminder.

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