The Thirty-second Sabbath

In celebration of the Miles for Hope 5K yesterday and its local 2012 ambassador, Mitchell Buning, and his victory over a brain tumor . . . in remembering the past 1 1/2 years for his family . . . in hoping for friends whose hearts continue to break as marriages fail, friends disappoint, and loved ones succomb to illness.  Dear friends, we are all safe.  We really are.

To the one whose dreams are falling all apart
And all you're left with is a tired and broken heart
I can tell by your eyes you think you're on your own
but you're not all alone

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas
Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet
With a love so strong he'll never let you go
oh you're not alone

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life
Is the very same voice that calls you now to rise
So hear Him now He's calling you home
You will never be alone

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

These are the hands that built the mountains
the hands that calm the seas
These are the arms that hold the heavens
they are holding you and me

These are hands that healed the leper
Pulled the lame up to their feet
These are the arms that were nailed to a cross
to break our chains and set us free

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with you always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

"Safe" by Phil Wickham

Why Am I Watching This?!

Beau thinks I have too many TV shows on our DVR (it's possible that's true, but it should be noted that there is still 79% remaining space, so he can record 334 hours of TV), so I'm working hard to watch what I have there.  This is all happening while another show is recording, so I'm positive I'm defeating the purpose here, but it's the thought, right?

Tonight's show of choice: Killer Kids on Bio.  This particular episode is "Family Killers," and I recorded it several weeks ago.  For obvious reasons, I have been putting off watching it--mostly I just didn't feel like ending the day with such a heavy subject.  I have no idea what made me turn it on tonight, but I did.  And now I'm glued to it.

True crime is my favorite genre of book, film, and television show.  I've always been fascinated by the glimpse into the mind of the criminals and the motives behind the crime.  I think there is never just one motive, and I think that very few crimes happen with absolutely no warning signs.  In the murder cases that they have featured on this show, all of that is true.  But warning signs are always easy to see in the rear view mirror.

Teenagers are some of my favorite people, too.  I love the angsty, sullen attitudes they adopt at that age.  I love their honesty.  I love them.  They make my heart sing, and they make my heart break.

Killer Kids.  What a horrific thought.  These kids are all teenagers--12, 13, 16--who snapped on a given afternoon or evening and murdered their families, always beginning with their parents.  Obviously that's wrong.  I'm not going to dispute that--there comes a point where you have to take ownership of your actions, and I think you can begin to do that at a very young age.  These kids were all out of line, and they needed to be punished.

But what makes a kid a killer?  Sometimes there is a psychiatric break, but for these kids that wasn't the case.  For these kids there was a premeditated moment where they decided the best option would be to kill their parents, "driven by mindless rage . . . disconnected from himself and with no feelings for those he is mowing down" (taken from the narrator's remarks in the show).  The show goes on to ask that same question: if there isn't any mental break, how can we make sense of why this happened?  I'm just not sure we can.

The only thing I can see is that none of these kids had a good relationship with their parents.  At least one of their parents is overly controlling.  There isn't a lot of grace.  There isn't room to be themselves, to be creative, to make mistakes, to be kids. 

God, it is hard to be a parent.  It is hard to lay down rules for safety and to teach children responsibility.  It is hard to be gracious and forgiving, especially in the middle of the daily frustrations of being disobeyed and disrespected.  It is hard to love unconditionally in the midst of angsty, sullen attitudes and hurtful raging.  But they need us to do it.  They need us to love them and forgive them and give them rules and discipline them and hold them and cry with them and talk to them.  Give us the strength to do it.

And, man, I am glad these murders took place in Canada and Norway, and kids in the United States don't do stuff like this.

The Twentieth Sabbath

A Sabbath prayer:

Oh, God.  We are such a faithless people.  You truly are our maker, our father, our Savior, our redeemer, restorer, rebuilder, rewarder . . . and you deserve our praise.

Instead you get our complacency.  And you get our complaining.  Like the Israelites who lost sight of the miracles you performed to lead them out of slavery and sustain them on their 40-year journey through the desert, we have short memories.  We find ourselves bored or lonely or not where we dreamed we would be, and we question you.

For all the times you are working behind the scenes and we wonder where you are, God forgive us.  For all the times you are working through our heartache and we wonder why you have abandoned us, God forgive us.  For all the times we see what we don't have and wonder why you are so slow, God forgive us.

Father God, great is your faithfulness.  Great is your goodness.  Great is your timing.  Great are you, God.  Help us to see your new mercies every morning.  When we can't understand what you are doing, help us to trust--help us to know--that you are at work rebuilding, restoring, reclaiming us for your glory.

Amen.

Pray. Without ceasing.

I spent the morning, frantically looking for any proof. Any proof would have worked, but I found nothing. So I prayed. I prayed that the friend I have living in China was not in the school that will prove to be a grave for many. I prayed that she made it out of her apartment. I prayed that she didn't even live in that part of China. I prayed. And I continued to look for her address, a note, a clue, anything.

Finally. Proof. The northern part is her home. Not the central part that saw the death of many of its youngest and brightest. Safe. I breathed in deeply, with gratitude.

And then I ceased praying.

But why? Just because I don't know them, are they any less? Do the daughters, sons, friends, family members of others matter less than those who are mine? No.

Dear Abba, be with these, our Brothers and Sisters, and those who are not. Give them safety this night as they struggle with pain from wounds physical and emotional. Give them breath. Give them peace. Give them hope. And give them You. Amen.