As I sit in my home office this morning, October 3, 2017, reading the responses to various people’s tweets and Facebook posts concerning a mass shooting in Las Vegas it became evident to me that there are no words that can be said. What started out as heartfelt sadness to the situation escalated into fiery jabs, pokes, and cut downs. I found myself getting caught up in the midst of the varied reactions waiting for the clinching blow of victory for the person I agreed with more. Feeling disdain for those who held on to beliefs I have overcome, wondering why anyone would still think in those particular ways proved troubling to me. So troubling that I decided to throw my 2 cents in, not in their arena, but in my arena; my blog.
I ask myself, “What is wrong with the world? What is wrong with these people? Why can’t we all just… just… get along? What is wrong with me?” What is wrong with me? I have this crazy idea that somehow or another there is a magic phrase to make it all better, kind of like when a mother kisses her child booboo, that it will magically feel better and the healing will begin. But there is no such phrase. Many at this point will look down at the ground, shake our head, and get busy with our personal world and hope it will someday go away.
I do not know anyone involved in the tragic events, or at least at this point I do not know of anyone I knew, so it is easy to sit here in my office and focus on other things, after all there are many things to do; waiting for the cable guy, preparing this Sunday’s sermon, looking around at my disheveled office and thinking to myself, “I can’t even keep my office neat and tidy what makes me think I could make the world neat and tidy.” So I focus back on writing my blog to say what the title already says, there are just no words.
My soul longs for the peace that passes all understanding. My soul yearns for those who are experiencing such great tragic loss. My heart goes out to those whose lives are now interrupted as they seek healing from bullet wounds. For the children who no longer have a parent, for the parents who are going to do the unthinkable, bury their child. The only answer I can come up with from the depths of my soul is found in tears of compassion and to offer to be an ear for those who have a story that needs to be told, a pain that will only be released as they are the ones who speak and discover the pathway into this day, this hour, this moment with a new reality of a loved one no longer here, a limp they did not have before, a mark on their body, and image in their mind that will remind them again and again of their tragic experience.
To offer hope and help is not to find the right words, but to open a listening ear.
Shalom my friends.