What has happened in Ferguson, Missouri over the past two weeks is tragic. Just tragic.
A young man lost his life. An African-American young man. An unarmed African-American young man.
Another man took his life. A policeman. A white policeman. A white policeman that had the authority (in extreme cases) to use lethal force.
A young man lost his life. An African-American young man. An unarmed African-American young man.
Another man took his life. A policeman. A white policeman. A white policeman that had the authority (in extreme cases) to use lethal force.
The two big issues of race and the use of guns once again
come to our attention, full-force.
Living with the centuries-long problem of racism in our country is tiring. For me, it is!
Living with the centuries-long problem of racism in our country is tiring. For me, it is!
Living with the decades-long problem of guns, and gun-regulations is tiring. For me, it is!
Two men have had their reputations impugned in our attempts to place blame and to understand what actually happened.
After so much time has passed, we still simply do not know all we need to know. That, too, is concerning.
What we do know is that once again we find ourselves losing hope. I do!
How we
feel affects our ability to hope.
Right now, many of us feel sick about this.
Mad as hell about this.
Disappointed that we are still dealing with crud like this. Feeling sick, or mad, or disappointed does not easily give rise to hope.
Right now, many of us feel sick about this.
Mad as hell about this.
Disappointed that we are still dealing with crud like this. Feeling sick, or mad, or disappointed does not easily give rise to hope.
I believe it to be true that hope is something that comes and goes. And it can be gone when we need it most.
I also believe it to be true that hope is a totally renewable resource.
“Hope" was painted in 1886 by Victorian painter George Frederic Watts (1817-1904).
It pictures a woman with bandaged eyes and broken dreams. She is sitting on top of a world that seems pitted against her. Unable to see ahead, to look forward, she is clutching in her hands a harp with all its strings broken save one.
That one string of hope she strikes triumphantly…repeatedly…as she leans into the lyre and sends out into the darkness a beautiful melody that stirs the clouds and births a star into the sky.
This is Watts' second rendition of the painting, which took out the star because it (the star) seemed to Watts to be too cheery, and too cheesy.
I wish he had left it in.
But nonetheless, the hopeful melody continues to sound forth…and hopefully, the star will without fail arrive.
"The star," of course, heralds the arrival of God's in-the-flesh presence. Its time for one of those all-too-seldom incarnation things to happen. That's worth hoping for. For me, it is!
