Today, I got up and I did some reading on Special Relativity and how it changed our perception of time. I did this because I'm taking a class on the philosophy of time, because I think how we count our hours and think about our days makes a difference in how we live. I also did this because it interests me and it's fun and this is the first time in five years that I haven't been bored and I will chase that high until my brain gives out. I did this because I could.
But today, someone else didn't get up. Someone else didn't read, didn't change their mind, didn't think about their place in the world, didn't do something because they could, because they wanted to. Someone else was deprived of their today because a stranger with a gun took it from them. Someone else, who had a family and friends that loved them too, who filled a gap in a community, who made a difference in a whole set of lives just by breathing, that person will never get to do anything again.
I haven't followed the news from San Bernardino because I don't need to. They'll identify the shooters, or they won't, and the families will mourn and the community will try to carry on and the people with the ability to make a change in the status quo will say words but won't do anything. This is our routine, like falling asleep on the couch watching football after eating a huge meal with the people we love. I'm not saying anything you haven't heard before. We know how this story ends.
But what if we didn't?
Listen, I don't know the policy answer to this that both allows responsible gun owners to keep doing what they're doing and prevents people who want to do harm from having guns. I don't know the exact balance point between hurting and helping when it comes to the media. I don't know exactly how money plays into all of this. I don't know how to make people feel safe while keeping them safe while allowing them to be as free as they want to be. I don't know how to redefine our rights or if we should or if there's another way out of this.
What I do know is that we have to take care of each other.
If you pray, when we pray for these families and communities, we should be praying for the strength to care for those who have been harmed by this and who will never feel safe again. We should be praying for ears to hear their cries and hands and feet to move swiftly to answer. We should be praying for the helpers, for the people in these communities who will work tirelessly to heal these wounds.
Then we should pray for ourselves.
We should pray for the strength to do the hardest thing in the world: to live in it. We should pray for eyes to see the people who have been shunted to the edges of society, the ones who keep pain in their hearts, the ones who are driven to inflict that pain again on others they think have harmed them. We should pray for hearts that hurt for the people who feel like they have no community, no support, no one who understands them, no one who listens. We should pray for the courage every day of our lives to reach out to the people who want to hurt others and to love them as Christ loved us.
A gun is a piece of machinery, a tool.
Our job is to cultivate a world in which no one feels like they need to use it as a weapon.
That's not easy. But I'm praying for it, and for the strength to do something about it.
Would you pray with me, please?
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