As I sat down for dinner Thursday night, a report came on the television about a gang-related fight in my church's town. I grabbed the remote to turn on the volume because I saw a familar face. I've seen those eyes in the rearview mirror of the church bus, in a row of students watching the screen in the old sanctuary, out of the corner of my own eye while sitting on a pew during Sunday service. I felt my stomach tighten and my face warm as unwitting tears began to flow. I don't have an eloquent way to express all that I felt or thought; I just know that it made me mad.
Mad that I didn't care enough to be persistent. Mad that I did not plead with the church more passionately. Mad that I felt responsible. Mad that I hadn't prayed for him in I cannot remember how long. Mad that Christ had not made a difference in his life. Mad that the Church had not made a difference in his life. Mad that my phone didn't ring because someone else had seen the report and recognized his face or known his name. Mad that the story would not move so many because it is so typical. Mad that he is another statistic in another book. Mad that someone with vile intent had pursued him more earnestly than the people of God. Mad that Satan proudly stands as the victor in this skirmish while the Church hides Easter eggs.
Since then, I've wrestled and continue to wrestle with our responsibility to this community. Can we effect change or are all the feel-good stories just stories, the atypical acts of God? How much of our time are we called to give? Is the time we're giving making a difference or adding up to a whole lot of waste? Does the Bible call us to be characterized by a passionate pursuit of our local community? If so, what does that look like today? What role do men of God have in all of this? What role do I have? What does the Gospel message sound like in the ears of this young man? What does it look like in the "church people" he has encountered? What do I do now?
Today is Good Friday - good in the face of the violence and hate. We remember today not the resurrection but the execution. Today we ruminate in the suffering of the Cross. It is not hard to narrow my focus to this event. If I still my heart, it almost immediately goes there - to the moment of ransom, a debt paid not to man or to the devil but to God alone. To the bitterness and the nails, the pain and the blood. To a moment seemingly devoid of God but overwhelmingly rich with His intent. How do I tie this sacred moment to today? Is it meant to be a balm or is it meant to stir my heart another way? As a believer who has lived freedom in Christ, is the event of the Cross meant to have greater influence still? Can it give me the direction I so need? Father, how should I live in light of such a violent love?
"For in [Christ, the Crucified] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross. And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, He has now reconciled in His body of flesh by His death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before Him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven." - Col. 1.19-23
