I couldn’t help but be annoyed at the truck that slowed down and pulled right in front of me as I was about to cross the street, only half a block from my house- “What is he doing?”. I saw the driver glancing hastily across the street. The slowing down of the truck incited a quickness of pace in two ladies walking across the street. After a quick exchange between the two, the two ladies ran to the corner, one splitting across the street and the other yelling to her companion, in a warning yet caring tone, “Be careful, baby!”. Looking around suspiciously, she walked to the mans car and got in. Few other assumptions could be made at this point about the nature of this encounter, this road was being used once again for a sexual encounter drive-through. It was not quite 9 a.m. I carried short sequence of happenings in my mind for the rest of the day, and the for the following week, really.
Why does this reality take the form of an oppressive weight my soul? I think of the life of the woman crossing the street, and the events that might have led up to her life being what it is. I think of the man in the car; what absence of human relationship does he have that he needs to pay for the fleeting ecstasy of sex? I think of the kids passing on their way to school, who are well aware of what has just happened. They simply make fun of it.
Let me not be sharing this to further drive guilt or hopelessness in anyone’s heart. Most can empathize with the heaviness that the realization of personal and systematic evil can bring on the heart. But I suspect that many of us, and I give myself as an example at this point, experience this and continue our regular fast paced lifestyle, running like a prisoner hoping senselessly that his shackles will be shed by treading at a faster pace. At many different points in my life I’ve been presented with the phrase “we live in a fallen world” (sound familiar?), but is sadly often used as a passive justification for acceptance of evil. I don’t suggest this as a good response either. But, as followers of Jesus, I suggest we allow ourselves to feel the pain that surrounds us, and give ourselves time to weep for the corruption in the world (and that we are part of, in some way). The teachings of narratives in Genesis come to mind; the Garden of Eden being created in peace and for peace, and humans instead choosing to construct their own systems of power and idolatry.
Luke tells us of Jesus weeping over the city of Jerusalem, burdened with the reality that his message would not be accepted, that Jerusalem would not recognize the things that make for peace (Luke 19:41). I need to remind myself that it is OK to do this. I need to spend time mourning to the Creator for the seeming hopelessness that sometimes overwhelms. Our hands are indeed God’s hands for healing the brokenness of the world, but I need to allow myself to feel sorrow for the oppression and sin in it, too.
Lord, hear our prayer.