I’m not really sure what I feel tonight. Theology seems to have gone out the window. There’s no way to use the language of God to explain or talk about this. In times like these, words like Bill Coffin’s eulogy for Alex seems to offer some words of comfort. Problem is, that was an accident. Today parents all across our country and indeed the world grieve.
Shooting up a kindergarten.
As a parent, I grieve, I am angry. I want gun control laws like yesterday. How many more children have to die before the powerful influencers in DC are ignored and our elected officials do what is right. Maybe a morbid silver lining is that we’ll all be so incredulous that something will change this time.
All I know is that when I pastored in Britain, a crime wave was robbing banks with a cricket bat. No guns. Police officers didn’t wear body armor. There were only two police cars in the whole county that had guns in the trunk. And they get along fairly well.
As a pastor, there are no words tonight. All I know is that we are not alone. God is close by. We are not abandoned, even if it feels like it. Isn’t that the part of the message of the incarnation, after all?
And the only Scripture that makes sense is Matthew 2:18
“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
May some sense of God’s peace be with those whose houses are empty tonight, for whom Christmas will no longer be a celebration, but a solemn symbol of light in the midst of utter darkness. And may God forgive us all.
I keep thinking, if we only had the courage to get the guns and attend to the mentally ill, we’d all sleep easier tonight.