LAST NIGHT, I FELL IN LOVE AGAIN

They took my breath away, my own weary people who came trickling into church after a long day. After what happened in the Emmanuel church in Charleston, still they came to this house of God.

Generous arms loaded with potluck goodies, aching souls sharing refuge and fellowship, thirsty spirits abandoned to their Creator.

And the music tore the curtain to the invisible; we worshipped our King and He kissed our bruises, and He hung out with us here in our broken reality.

I cherish the textured mosaic of lives born into such diverse environments that all our beautiful skin colors don’t begin to tell their stories. Not colorblind, no. Rather celebrating and exploring the worlds behind their eyes, our shared human experience made sacred through our faith. We are one in Him.

And I fell in love again with the Savior, who too, was executed by small-minded hatred. He who left the glorious safety of Heaven’s Home behind to endure the mockery and torture of bigots and zealots who didn’t know the first thing about love. So they didn’t recognize Him when they looked Love in the eyes – but then again, perhaps they didn’t look there…

I didn’t. When He first began to woo me, I hurled the same hurtful, haughty insults at Him. Who did He think he was, anyway?! So no, I wouldn’t look into the eyes I expected to condemn me. I was fine without Him, thank you very much.

Only I wasn’t.

And reluctantly, I began to face the reality that the prejudice, the arrogance, the self righteous judgment were not in Him at all – they were in me. Without knowing Him or ever giving Him any honest attention, I had absorbed my culture’s slander and transferred my postmodern “all-knowing” cynicism to the distorted image they called Jesus.

But we only reduced ourselves. He is who He is, no matter what we say. So much more than our meager, blurred vision of Him.

So when I finally mustered the courage, I found an unreserved affection, a caressing attention, a limitless understanding of my soul and my life, in the eyes of the Man on the Cross.

And last night, I fell in love again with the Hero who didn’t protect Himself, but instead embraced danger and death, to rescue His beloved. I fell in love with the people He found worth it – sinners, every one of us.

The massacre in Charleston ripped open our collective fears. How far will hatred go? Is no place safe? How do we protect ourselves?

And I fell in love with my pastor-man who reminded us of the much graver danger: To what extent will we let hatred intimidate us? Will we seek the illusion of protection from evil at the expense of the risky call to love? To love even our enemies? What if we don’t?

“For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6-8)

“In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” (1 John 4:10-11)

Not just we, but churches across the nation, responded to one mad man’s attempt to create war, by pulling together in unity.

As one, we gaze in grateful admiration on those whose loved ones were ripped from them, who choose forgiveness over revenge.

Peggy Noonan wrote in The Wallstreet Journal,
“There was no rage, no accusation—just broken hearts undefended and presented for the world to see. They sobbed as they spoke.”

“I just wanted everybody to know, to you, I forgive you,” said the daughter of Ethel Lance, killed in the shooting. “You took something very precious away from me. I will never talk to her ever again. I will never be able to hold her again. But I forgive you.” She asked that God have mercy on the shooter’s soul. “You hurt me. You hurt a lot of people. May God forgive you. And I forgive you.”

A family member of Anthony Thompson said he forgave the shooter. “I forgive you and my family forgives you, but we would like you to take this opportunity to repent . . . confess, give your life to the one who matters the most, Christ, so that He can change it—can change your ways no matter what happens to you, and you will be OK. Do that and you will be better.” (http://blogs.wsj.com/peggynoonan/2015/06/19/a-bow-to-charleston/)

This week, I fell in love with the country who welcomed me and countless other wayfarers into her global medley without assimilating us into blandness. E pluribus unum; out of many, one. Our tears over tragedy are indistinguishable, our cry for forgiveness, one language.

“I don’t want to lose our common ground
With the whole world upside-down
I don’t want to fight about it now
And the world was burning out

Though the world is flawed
These scars will heal

We are one, tonight!”