How Long, Oh Lord?

Revelation 22:1-2 (Contemporary English Version)

“The angel showed me a river that was crystal clear, and its waters gave life. The river came from the throne where God and the Lamb were seated. Then it flowed down the middle of the city's main street. On each side of the river are trees that grow a different kind of fruit each month of the year. The fruit gives life, and the leaves are used as medicine to heal the nations.”

This is truly an age of terror for America. The rage and hate in the air are palpable. It’s apparent on our highways as we commute to and from work. It’s apparent on our airwaves and it’s becoming more and more pervasive in our neighborhoods. The smallest perceived slights all too often bring new terms to our lexicon; hence we now have road rage and drive-by’s and father-son sniper teams and gangsta’ rap and shock jocks to deal with as part of our daily lives. Less than ten years ago our schools appeared to be safe. They appeared to be institutions of learning and life, but now our collective memories are filled with names like Columbine, Pearl, Mississippi, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and now Blacksburg, Virginia. So, in this age of terror it’s twelve lives cut short here and thirty-two there. It’s innocent children caught in the crossfire of rival gangs. It’s classrooms bathed in blood.

Of all the frightening components to this arc that has joined one century to another, the most terrifying of all is the power the individual has gained to randomly inflict pain and misery on the many. Some of these individuals have grown up living lives privilege, like Osama bin Laden. Some lived their formative years in America’s suburban cul de sacs. Some spring up from families trying to claim their part in the American dream. They hold one thing in common – rage. It may spring from a real or perceived slight or from a desire to rid the world of infidels. The rationale for the evil is almost always expressed in a crude fatwa or a rambling manifesto.

In the aftermath of the evil we’re trying to make sense of it, but few answers come, and those offered don’t seem to help much. I find no solace in hearing that this latest iteration of evil was just an isolated act, nor do I find any comfort in our feeble attempts to analyze the minds of the killers. The acts are becoming less isolated and more and more commonplace. The actors have acted out their gruesome thoughts and that’s that. I doubt we’ll ever really know why. It’s all so incomprehensible and those upon whom the evil is being inflicted seem so powerless to stop it.

And so in the end we all will find our ways to go on with our lives until the next random act of terror paralyzes us all once again. The cycle of mourning and explanations will follow just as surely. The purveyors of hate will crawl out of the woodwork and picket the mourners. The philosophical lines will be drawn, left versus right. Laws will be enacted; politicians will make promises. Little will change, though. The foundational issues, the issues of the heart which trigger these evil deeds, will remain every bit as constant. As the prophet said, it’s the heart that is deceitful, desperately wicked, and un-knowable.

Yesterday afternoon I spent an hour or so attending a service organization luncheon at Emporia State University. As I approached the Memorial Union I noticed a group of senior citizens gathered at the entrance. I’m not sure why they were there. Some may have been visitors. Some may have been grand-parents of students. Others might have been professors. There were also students scurrying from one place to another, trying to make a class in economics or English composition perhaps, or just making their way to meet a friend at an appointed place. Some looked sullen and downcast. Could a poor result on an exam have triggered that? Some looked joyful. A fellowship or a scholarship offered, possibly? Some appeared to be contemplative. Most appeared to be hurried. I couldn’t tell the good from the bad or the chaff from the wheat. How could one? How could one sort out the ticking time bomb from angel of mercy? There’s no way to tell at first glance.

Our local newspaper asked a day or so whether or not something like the tragic events of Monday could happen here in the Heartland. Most agreed that it probably couldn’t. After all, Emporia is too nice a town and Emporians are too decent a people. I hope and pray that’s true, but I can’t help but think that Blacksburg, Virginia is a nice town and its people are eminently decent too. They didn’t deserve or expect what happened, but it did.

Holy Writ says encourages us not to fear the terror by night nor the arrow that flies by day. I know it’s wise advice, but I find myself still asking the age-old question. “How long, Oh Lord, how long.” At a time when the brutish things seem to command the world’s stage and attention, when the good seems so elusive, I find myself longing for citizenship in that city nestled by the clear, crystal waters. I long for healing and restoration and the time when peace and harmony will be the order of the day. That day will come; I’m certain of that. But, in the light of the events of the past few days it seems so far off.