For Christ's Sake

On Sunday morning, we had one of the most powerful All Saints Sunday services that I've ever been a part of. The church was full of people gathered to mourn the losses of the past year and to celebrate lives, long or short, lived well and lived deeply. The bell tolled more than seventy times as the list of names was read and the chancel was aflame with candlelight. The congregation was grieving the loss of both its oldest member (just a few weeks short of her one hundred and third birthday) and its youngest (just a few weeks past his and his twin brother's first birthday) and still, there was an abundance of joy. They lived in the place where hope meant deep strength rather than weakness.

It was beautiful.

It was beautiful and I was going to write about it.

I was going to unpack the service and really dig into the comment one of the parishioners made about it. ("It was heavy this morning, ladies. I know you gotta do it, but...")

I was going to let us sit with this lone empty high chair, which hit me like a sucker punch to the gut as I walked into the fellowship hall, because there should be two of them. This child should not have to grow up without his brother, nor this mother live without her son, but the fact of this emptiness remains and that's why we have Sundays like yesterday.

I was going to be deep and encouraging and I intended to share all of the gifts given to me that morning with all of you.

And then what happened in Sutherland Springs... happened.

Happened again.

How is this happening again?

How are we doing this insane dance again? How was once not enough? Playing like thoughts and prayers are sufficient when what does the Lord require of us but to do justice? Where is this famed mercy that we're supposed to be loving when people are bleeding out on the church floor? What kind of God are we walking with if we continue to allow instruments of murder to be easier to obtain than medical care, when we enable death and curtail life? Our hearts are cracked, every single one of us, with deep chasms that scream for fulfillment, and we pretend like bullets are safe things to have within reach.

God.

I swear.

Is one dead kid not enough? Wasn't twenty? How high does the pile of corpses have to be, exactly? I'd love it if you'd give me a number, just, you know, an upper limit for the number of acceptable gun deaths in a given period of time, because apparently we live in some twisted reality where that number is not zero. I mean, parents of toddlers put covers on all the outlets but it's not like we're outlawing electricity. We're just taking precautions because we decided that one kid dead from electric shock was too many. I don't understand how you can even pretend to be on the side of life when you value access to guns more than the safety of the most vulnerable among us.

So, is it a question of legislation? Or is it a question of enforcement? Training? Equipment? Is the real issue here domestic abuse and toxic masculinity and broken community? Radicalization and terrorism? Fear? Guilt? Greed?

You know, I honestly don't care anymore. It doesn't matter to me which fix we try. I just need to know that we can all see that there's a problem here. I need to know that we all know that this is not what normal should look like, that this is not what good or even fine looks like. I need us to acknowledge that this is not the life that we were freed for.

Dear God, what have we done that we continue to have Sundays like yesterday?