Nonsense and sensibilities?

Somehow I missed the news that more than 100 civilians had been massacred in Syria recently. Perhaps it's because I don't really follow the news as carefully as I might. My husband, though, is really up on things...and he didn't know about it. Even today, more than a week later, there is little coverage except on CNN.com and news magazines like the New Yorker, and the CNN coverage is from the 27th of May. What does this have to do with me, today, in rural Georgia you ask? Why should we, half a world away, care?


We should care because it is evil. We should care because civilized society shouldn't include images like this or this. Yes, I posted links to the unedited, unvarnished photographs of children - babies even - dead. They have parts of their skulls exposed. Their brains are on coverlets behind their heads. One has no arm. One has a gaping wound that once was her head. It's ugly. It's brutal. It's infuriating. It's real.


Most news outlets won't show the photos. Martin Fletcher, writing for the London Times, says that not printing the photos lets the brutal Syrian army under the control of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad get away with the wickedness that they have perpetrated. He's right. Because of our delicate sensibilities, we conveniently ignore the gruesome reality of things we don't want to face. Because we cannot offend, we are blind to the injustice heaped upon the innocents of this world. We don't want to look. We don't want to know. We don't want to feel responsible.


I'm not supposed to be writing this tonight. No, in fact, I'm supposed to be praying right now. No kidding! My friends and I have embarked on a seven-month-long journey of purposeful living modeled after the journey documented in the recent book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker. We are working together to shed our reliance on consumerism, to streamline our lives, to cut away excess, all in order to better serve our King. This month, our focus is on reducing stress, and one of the ways we are supposed to reduce our stress is to purposefully pause for prayer 7 times each day [Please visit our blog about this journey to learn more]. The prayer I am supposed to be praying right now is the prayer at bedtime - the Great Silence. In the Latin Hours, it is the hour of compline. It is supposed to be a prayer of rest, of contemplation, of trusting God for His protection through the night. Interestingly, it is also the time to bring to Him your personal sorrow, and I confess I feel a great sorrow on behalf of these murdered women and children. My prayer tonight is being poured out in this blog, as I pour out my heart to you, as I share what little insight I have gleaned from this horror.


It occurs to me that we are the murderers. Our sin is ugly. It is brutal. It is vile. It disgusts our Lord. In Habakkuk 1:13 [weird little book, close to the end of the Old Testament], the prophet Habakkuk says about God: "Your eyes are too pure to approve evil, and you cannot look on wickedness with favor..." The amazing thing is, God didn't cling to His sensibilities. He didn't ignore our sinful condition because it disgusted Him. He didn't avert His eyes so He wouldn't have to look at our ugliness. Romans 5:8 makes this abundantly clear: "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Did you get that? While we were still sinners! We were ugly! We were disgusting! I was repulsive - but Christ allowed Himself to be killed for me. He allowed Himself to be beaten, to be whipped, to be mocked, to be humiliated...all for me. Like the monsters in the service of  al-Assad, I killed the innocent, the noncombatant - Jesus. Like those men, I had no mercy. My sin was the sin that placed Him on the Cross, and my sin was the sin that held Him there. My sin...and yours.


Many in this world don't want to look at that Sacrifice. It offends their sensibilities. Like al-Assad and his sycophants, they deny their connection to it. It has nothing to do with me, they say. I am not responsible, they say. I live a good life, they say. They are the U.N. observers, just one town over. A few short miles...and an unbelieving, unrepenting heart away. The U.N. observers wring their hands and decry the injustice, but they do nothing. The unbeliever wrings his hands and declares that he (or she) wants to believe, wants to follow, but they do nothing.


I choose to believe. I choose to acknowledge the ugliness, the brutality, the depravity that is my sin. I choose to see the Sacrifice wrought for me. I gratefully accept the gift of His all-encompassing grace that tells me that my involvement in the massacre is forgiven. I bow on my knees and cry to the Lord God that He protect me through the night...and that He break me of my complacency, of my disregard, of my ignorance of the evil in this world. His hands hold my sorrow tonight. It is a sorrow borne out of a deep sense of displacement. I want to be Home, where innocent children are not slaughtered in their sleep for the crime of being. I want to sit in my Father's lap, and have Him tell me there isn't going to be any more sorrow, that pain is gone forever. I want Him to wipe away my tears. 


For now, though, I will open my eyes to evil. I will acknowledge it. I will not let it escape punishment because my sensibilities are too delicate to bear it. I will add my voice to the cry that resounds throughout the world: I will not tolerate evil. I will no longer turn my head from pain. I will, instead, fight for the ones who can't fight, love the ones who don't love me back, speak for those who can't speak, and know that at the end of my day, I have done it all in His name for His children.


Cassie


All scripture quoted from the New American Standard Bible, (c) 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. 

What is thriving?

Nike, at Choose to Thrive describes her realization that thriving is a choice to live deliberately with thankfulness, gratitude, and appreciation no matter what financial, social, or emotional situation you find yourself in. She says, in part,

I think Hubs and I figured we’d enjoy the upstairs and yard, put up with the downstairs and be happily onto one of those shiny new houses across the street in a few years… part of me has given up trying to make this house feel like a home…the other, more important part is that I've realized that I’ve been playing the wo-is-me-card way too often and using the excuse that we can’t afford to remodel anything the way we’d like so why bother to put my heart into this place… If these walls could talk, they’d tell our story… And for that reason, I love this house. I am so grateful for this house.  And this house deserves better… I want these walls to say that we loved this place for everything it was … that we poured our heart and soul into making it the very best home it could be … that we faced the trials and sorrow of our life as a family, gathered together safely under this roof.

I think she’s right. I think she’s so right, that I am adapting her pledge to be mine, and I invite you to do the same.

I acknowledge that I have not cared for, have not cherished my house as a blessing from God. I am ashamed to admit I have allowed outside concerns, that I have allowed kid destruction and time to tire me out, to sap my enthusiasm for having a home that is welcoming and reflects my love of family, my faith in God, and my place as part of a community of believers. 

It is too easy to see what I hate about my house – I need new flooring, I want to make changes to every room, I don’t have enough storage, I don’t have enough room to entertain – but choosing to thrive means I will notice instead the love that has lived within these walls. 

I will remember bright-eyed foster children that God allowed me to love. 

I will remember bringing home a beautiful boy who was a true miracle. 

I will remember becoming more than just two people joined together in this house. I will remember becoming a family, stronger together than the sum of our parts, eternal in our devotion to the King. 

I will remember the struggles of joblessness, the challenges of juggling college and homeschool and work and housework and ill health. 

I will remember God’s promise to be with me always. 

I will look at my home with new eyes. 

I will see the beauty and blessing in the rooms I have, instead of wishing for, and dreaming of larger rooms in a different house. 

I will stop putting off for “one day” the things that I can do now, and I will focus on what is possible and not what I believe is impossible. 

I will teach my son what stewardship really means, showing him by example how to show gratitude to God for His gifts. 

I will seek to the best of my ability to treat every part of my life as a precious gift from God by caring for it, loving it, and nurturing it – even the things that cause me pain or heartache, because pain and heartache lead to growth and understanding. 

I say to God and myself today that I will create a home that reflects not who I am today, but who I aim to be as a sanctified, holy, perfect Child of God. 

I will not give up even though I am sorely tested. 

I will thrive…here, where I am now, with what I’ve been given.