I’m sitting here on my couch watching the news. I feel like I haven’t moved for days now — just flipping back and forth from news channel to news channel to news channel. I keep hoping that one of them will falsify the news; that these evil acts upon innocent people all over our beautiful World will all just be a nightmare that we can all, very soon, wake up from. I don’t suppose that’s going to happen, though. I’ve cried many tears, asked God numerous questions, and I’ve prayed vigorously (maybe even selfishly) for the Lord to return. We, Christians, pray that a lot, don’t we? “Lord, come quickly.” It’s so easy to sit on the couch of Christianity and say that we, too, are hurting with the rest of the world. That we’re so sorry. That we’re praying. That love triumphs over and is louder than hate. That Jesus is coming back soon. All of these things may be aggressively true, but it’s so much harder to get out from underneath the blanket that we’re under, to put the tissues away, to dress ourselves in His armor, and to go fight for it. I was reminded today that in my longing for Jesus’ return, though I may be whole-heartedly confident in my faith that I’m ready to see Jesus face-to-face, there are many that are not. So while I sit on my couch in tears, there are people roaming this broken world who do not have the joy of knowing that one day they can dance in the presence of Jesus. They don’t have the hope of Heaven. They don’t know that one day there will be no more tears. No more death. No more pain. No more crying. And I think, maybe, that’s what makes me the saddest. I, in no way, want to undermine the importance of sending a message of solidarity and condolence to the French people. It’s truly my heart’s prayer that the Lord sheds comfort and strength and the ability to persevere on and over those who were affected. But today, the anguish of my heart has been shifted, slightly, from those who are already so loved, towards those who are so not. It’s very easy to see (and rightfully so) that all of the victims of these brutal and heartless crimes and attacks are being embraced with open arms, showered with prayer, and humbly being served in every capacity. But with Jesus’ arms around me, right now, in all of my sadness and heartache, fear and anxiety are no match for His love! I’m reminded that the deplorable people who have committed all of these acts of hatred have probably never been loved before. And though it does not, and will never justify their acts, it is our job to extend grace and mercy and as hard as it may be, you guessed it — love. I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel as if taking the life of another person (or people) would satisfy my heart’s desires. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to fall asleep at night knowing that I’ve caused a great amount of people eternal earthly pain and suffering. I cannot imagine what it must be like to have never experienced running into the embrace of a father’s strong arms, or falling asleep in the lap of a mother. To not know Love — to not know God, is to chase and pursue nothing other than death. Whether it’s your own or that of others. And I want that to stop. Before I sit back down on my couch and hear another word from a news anchor, I so so desperately want that to stop. And who am I to pick and choose who I show that compassion to? I want to tell the families of the victims that I love them. But more than that, I want to tell the person that walked into that concert venue in Paris, France, on November 14th and shot and killed nearly 100 people that I love them. I want to tell the person who set off the bomb near the Stade de France that I love them. I want them to know that there’s a God, a Savior, Jesus, who is so, madly in love with them. That though their actions were vile and disgusting, that they can run into His arms, instead, and be embraced with forgiveness and affection. That though they exert all of their efforts on serving other gods and idols, that they can, instead, lay their head at the foot of the Cross — in the lap of Jesus, and find rest for their tired and weary souls. I would want them to know, too, that even in my best behavior, I am no better than they are. That I, too, am unclean. That my most righteous acts are nothing but filthy rags in comparison to the Glory and the Perfection of my Savior — who makes me white as snow. But that’s the difference! I am continually made whole again. I am forgiven. My God gives me new mercies every morning that I wake up. And I have been commanded, not asked, to share that great Truth with every single breathing soul.
So next time I want to sit on my couch and cry from the safety of my comfort zone, I will make sure of one thing: From the tip of my toes to the top of my head, they’re going to know that I love You, Lord, and that You are the One who satisfies the desires of the heart and gives rest to the weary.
My prayer, today, and I hope that you will join me, in the words of True Love, Jesus, is: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”