Gentleness requires courage

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Violent emotions are not sustainable long-term sources of energy for the struggle. True gentleness is not an absence of anger, but a transformation of anger from the impulse to harm into an unconquerable will to protect and endure.

 

Gentleness is not the willingness to ignore abuse, but a powerful balance that prevents us from being involuntarily triggered and drawn off course. Gentleness is anger brought completely in harness to our highest values. When we are truly gentle, our power cannot be triggered by fate, nor manipulated by others.

 

Gentleness requires more courage than does violence and demands constant training as intense as that for any battle. Gentleness is not a hiding place from life, but a fortress of peace lying beyond the reach of any indignity from fate or foe. To be truly gentle does not mean to leave the struggle for a better world. Gentleness is the art of living in the eye of life’s storms. True gentleness simply means to be in full possession of our own hearts.

                     Jim Rigby

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They simmer and fester

Deep in the soul

 

The anger, dare I say hate?

Those emotions that are both violent and lead to violence.

 

There is energy there

Fire

And the pressure builds

Until we act out, our emotions making our choices

rather than our brains

 

We are in the territory of demons

What else can we call them

These malign thoughts

This foul presence

 

The feelings are not unfounded.

The greed is real

So are the abuses of power, and the lies

The harm is real

People are oppressed, and freedom is stolen

Children are killed

 

People in power do evil things,

And do not care (do you?)

 

How can we not be mad!  How can we not respond with every fiber of our being?

How can we not resist, violently, angrily!

 

And yet we live in the shadow of the cross

Or perhaps, on this day, the firing squad

 

And the words of Jesus echo:

Forgive them

Today you will be with me in paradise

Mother, behold your son

Behold your mother

 

On that day, in the midst of the pain and brutality

The injustice

There was peace

A peace that was beyond understanding

 

There was gentleness

 

Just as violence emerges from hate

So gentleness emerges from peace,

 

And peace

Comes because the Lord is near (Philippians)

 

It is peace that guards our hearts and our minds

Peace that makes us

Healers

And the carriers of hope

 

There are too many days when I am not peace-filled

Too many days when my soil is roiled

Too many days when what oozes from my soul are not

The fruits of the Spirit

But the produce of the Flesh

 

I don’t want to be like that

I don’t want to be tossed around by the winds of hate

I don’t want to be manipulated by the likes of Donald Trump

 

I want to be gentle, kind, forgiving

A healer

 

I know I cannot ignore evil.

I cannot step back into silent places of safety

But I can be controlled by love

I can let Jesus have possession of my heart

 

And I can be a safe place

In the midst of the storm

 

And that, that

Is what I want to be

 

Haters will Hate

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“I should be happy, but instead I feel nothing. I feel a lot of nothing these days. I've cried a few times, but mostly I'm empty, as if whatever makes me feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving me hollowed out like a shell.”

          Jennifer Niven,

 

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

When shall I come and behold the face of God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually,

“Where is your God?” 

          Palm 42

 

Happy are the pushers, for they get on in the world

Happy are the hard-boiled, for they never let life hurt them

Happy are those who complain, for they get their own way in the end

Happy are the blasé, for they never worry about their sin

Happy are the knowledgeable, for they know their way around

Happy are the troublemakers, for they make people take notice of them

          J.B. Phillips

___________________________________________________

 

I am tired

Physically, it can be a challenge

To drag this almost 75-year-old body out of bed

 

Everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work.

 

Mentally, I’m tired

The complexities of life, which once were fun to juggle

Now seem to crash down upon me

 

Spiritually, I am exhausted

 

Exhausted

 

In the “Dead Poets Society,” the teacher tells his students

Don’t use “avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired; he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose.

 

OK then, I am exhausted and morose.

 

It is debilitating

The spiritual BS that flows like a stream of foul water

From Erica Kirk and Franklin Graham

From Paula White and JD Vance

 

And sometimes, I suspect, from me too

Me too

 

Because I am exhausted and perplexed

And I do not always handle it well

Too often, too often, Lord, I become what I abhor and protest

 

Impatient, angry, strident, empty, and confused

 

But I am tired of the Gospel that is not Gospel

The good news that is truly bad

 

I am tired of the Christian nation that violates Christ

I am tired of those who have doubled down on arrogance rather than humility

Power rather than servanthood

Lies rather than the truth

Violence and killing rather than peacemaking and healing

Hate rather than love

 

I would love to feel as if my soul is watered by flowing streams

But instead, I am soaked

By salty tears

 

I do not know how to move out of my perplexity

Out of my sense that everything is going wrong

And there is nothing I can do.

 

But perhaps perplexity is the point.

Yes, there is nothing I can do

But is there something the Sacred can do?

 

Sometimes I doubt it.

I have every reason to doubt.

Trump is president.  Netanyahu rages uncontrolled.

 

My head and heart tell me to quit

To hide

To be silent

 

Why bother?

 

Why?

Because

 

God

 

Because of the sunrise over the mountain

The smile of a child

The random act of kindness

 

God lives

Love lives

Goodness Lives

 

Call it what you will

(if you can’t call it God, call it something else)

 

But there is something

Dancing in the morning sunlight

 

Something lingering in my soul

That changes my Lament (at least from time to time)

To praise

 

I am not naïve

Haters will hate

Innocents will still die

Bad people will still flourish

Good-hearted people will still be led astray

By liars

 

But I do believe

Even in the midst of my unbelief

That hate will never be

 

The end of the story

 

I believe

That someday, the Kingdom will come

And it is my job

Every day, every single day

 

To live as though it were already here.

How long, O Lord?

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Right now it is achingly clear, heartbreakingly, angrily, clear, that we who believe that God is love and is present, is also a God who is hidden sometimes, sometimes when we are most in need.  The Psalmist cried out, "How long, O Lord, How Long!?

 

How long?

 

Too long. 

 

That seems to be the answer right now.

 

Even Jesus had a "moment."  My Lord, my Lord, why have you forsaken me?"  Why?  Why have you forsaken us?  Why have you allowed creepy, cruel, greedy, uncompassionate, destructive people to rise to power and destroy so much that is good?  Why do you let childish cosplayers blow some of your children out of the water, and blow apart schools full of children, and boast about it?  Why do you let spiritual lightweights lecture a Pope who is literally quoting you? 

 

Why do you let masked thugs throw innocents into concentration camps where they wither away?

 

Why do you let people who would plunder the planet destroy forests and rivers, and violate sacred sites?

 

Why do you let the political bullies like Putin and Netanyahu, and Trump flourish?

 

Why?  Why? Why?

 

I realize, Lord, that you are way more loving than I can ever be.

I realize that you are more patient.

I realize that you see more than I see

I realize that I, too, am a mess who does harmful things, who slides into anger and hate, greed and other destructive things.  And I am thankful that you are patient and loving, forgiving, and restorative.

 

But Lord, I struggle with those who harm and divide, who grab and devour, who rape, and have no regret.  Only a desire for more, more, more.

 

This morning, as I watched the sunrise, I rejoiced, but my joy was blurred by tears

 

Lord, I am perplexed and confused.  I am tired.

I am tired of my own stupidity

I am tired of the stupidity of those around me.

I am tired that we keep choosing poorly.

I am frustrated that you keep loving and forgiving and working to repair and restore

And we keep doing the same things we human creatures have always done

And keep getting what we have always gotten.

 

Pain, destruction, death, injustice, inequity

Hunger, poverty, war.

 

Why?

When?

How Long

How?

 

These are my prayers of desperation

There seems to be no answer

But against all hope

I believe

Two hearts notice

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A whole civilization will die tonight

People will die

Lots of people will die

Women and children will die

 

Have died

Slaughtered in their homes, their schools

We can hear the cries of the mothers and fathers

From here

 

People will die

Homes will be destroyed

Cultures erased

 

Call it what it is

Genocide

 

Why?

So, our leaders say, we can make lots of money

So that the oil will flow

So we will feel big and strong

USA, USA (and Israel too)

 

It is not all Tomahawk missiles,

And air strikes

It is Zionist settlers with bulldozers

It is the IDF, responding to violence and arresting the victims

 

It is the incarcerated being beaten and raped

Immigrant families being torn apart

People disappeared, without due process

 

It is blockades dooming people to a slow death by starvation

It is infants dying in hospitals because there is no electricity

 

And it is not just in Iran, or Lebanon, or Cuba

Not just the Gaza or the West Bank

 

It is in Minneapolis

Washington DC

Texas

Florida

Idaho

Where the ideologically extreme right has decided

Trans people don’t deserve to exist

Women should be subjugated

Poor people should be ignored

The planet should be plundered for money

 

We should not be surprised that

 

So much evil flows from Empire

We watch it happen

Every single day

 

The lies, the violence

The hate mongering, the division

 

What do we do?

Cheer? (some do)

Pretend it isn’t happening (denial is real)

Become numb, and accept it all as normal?

The ramblings of a madman, the dishonesty, the cruelty, and the greed?

 

Do we reach the point where we no longer notice?

No longer let tragedy and atrocity both us?

Where we can simply ignore a powerful white male who brags

That he can grab “them” by their…  (well, you know)

 

Or, do we allow our hearts to break?

And do we let our broken hearts become broken-open hearts (Brian McLaren’s words)

 

Do we remember that God is love

That God cares for all who suffer,

Agonizes over all those in need,

 

And remember too

That we, as those who would follow GodWithUs

As those who experience GodInUs

Should also care

 

That we should be people of compassion.

 

We should look upon the world with eyes

That see

We should approach the world with broken-open hearts

 

Our compassion should be a bridge between

The compassion of God and the pain of the world

 

When we hear of children killed

Justice denied

Victims ignored

 

When we see violence, hunger, homelessness,

Illness, loneliness, despair

All the miseries of humankind

 

When we see someone suffering,

We should say

 

“Someone is suffering, and at least two hearts in the universe notice and refuse to turn away – God’s heart, and my own.”

This stops here!

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Any God who would wander into the human condition, any God who has this thirst to pursue us, had better not be too put off by pain, for that's the way we tend to treat our saviors. Any God who tries to love us had better be ready to die for it.

William Willimon

____________________________________________________________

Sometimes it seems

as if hate is going to win

as if all that is right

all that is good

is coming to an end

 

as on that Friday so long ago

when in the heat of the afternoon

jeers echoed

lashes fell

thorns pierced

hammer blows reverberated

and love took its last breath

 

or did it?

 

perhaps love is made of tougher stuff

perhaps

just perhaps

on that day

God looked in the face of hatred

and brutality

into the face of judgement and rejection

into the face of power and wealth

 

and said

“This Stops Here”

 

and that is why we call it

Good