I have to confess that I long for a return to Mr. Roger's neighborhood...

Luke 10: 29 (NRSV)

 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

With the rendering of the verdict in the trial of the State of Florida vs. George Zimmerman a nation exhaled.  Collectively many had held their breath waiting for the outcome of this polarizing and divisive narrative unfolding around the tragic events that had taken place over 18 months ago.  Some cried in anguish over the verdict.  Some shared silent prayers of relief.  And in the end the altered trajectory of two families’ experiences and lives had taken yet another painful turn. 

I can’t begin to imagine the reality that this set of events has created for these families.  And yet as I am confronted daily and almost constantly with media opinions, Facebook posts, pundit’s rants, and nonstop discussion of this very topic, I find myself contemplating what my role in this discussion/ debate could or should be.  It seems as if this question is particularly significant at this moment in our nation’s shared experience.  As we find ourselves alternating between burn-out, grief, relief, shock, outrage and so many conflicting emotions as a people, this question is one that echoes in my thoughts and digs itself into my consciousness.  As a man who calls himself (and tries, however imperfectly, to live as) a disciple of Christ, I am challenged by the texts surrounding the question “And who is my neighbor?” 

I Have to Confess That Prayer Can Be Confusing...

     As I have been preparing to go and participate in a National Day of Prayer event in Courtland, MS, I have begun to reflect on what exactly I need to be prayerful over.  The truth is that there are so many things I know need prayer… our government, our schools, our leadership (national and local), the men and women of our armed forces, the souls in Texas who are reeling from a devastating disaster, the people of Boston who are dealing with the aftermath of terror in their midst, victims of earthquakes and other natural disasters… the list just goes on and on.  I have trouble deciding where to begin.  It is daunting and a little on the overwhelming side.

     I am also aware that in the midst of my prayers for these things I, and so many others, can begin these prayers as if we are decreeing before God what is wrong with creation like God is unaware; and we are asking for God’s judgment in all of these situations when we are directly involved to one degree or another in the advancement of the trouble in this world.  It is more than a little disconcerting to realize that I, a pastor and spiritual leader, a self-declared follower of the Christ, may have any part of the mess that we look around and see.  But I have to begin with the admission that I am as guilty of sin as anyone else in creation. 

I Must Confess That I Am Not Up To A Clever Title Today...

April 15, 2013 3:10 CST.

I have been watching news coverage over the last few minutes as the horror unfolds in Boston this afternoon.  Just after 3pm Eastern Time, two explosions tore through the Boston Marathon.  The number of dead at this time is officially counted at three, and it is my prayer that that number doesn’t change.  It wasn’t until they showed the video of the explosion and I comprehended that the unbelieving gasp I had just heard was mine that I realized that I had been holding my breath for a while. 

I am writing these words as tears roll down my cheeks.  I’m not entirely sure why I am so moved by something that happened so far away, to people that I may never know.  All I know is that it does.  Maybe it’s because in a very real way I do know them.  I may not know their names, but the lives they experience are not so unlike mine that I can’t share in their shock and grief as those lives are disrupted in massive and confusing ways.  Maybe it’s because of a faith that leads me to the understanding that in my humanity, I am to be in relationship with others in this world in significant ways and that means sharing in both times of celebration and of mourning.  Maybe it’s because I am grieving the loss of a false sense of security in the reminder that nothing in this world is permanent; nor is our safety guaranteed just because we are “good” Christian children.  Or it may just be some of all of it.