Two months ago, the tone of every conversation I had was one of anxiety, fear, hesitation, uncertainty. Repeatedly I heard questions asked that started with: “How will we?” or “How can we?” or even, “What if it takes years?” All valid questions; all questions that I asked myself behind a green and plaid mask as I walked around the community. There was a definite tone of absence and crisis living on the periphery that could not be ignored. Many of us would say that we did not have the language to address them—and I would label myself in that group. The whole thing felt too overwhelming.
Then a month ago, the narrative changed, albeit it slightly. Red became Yellow and the hope of Green was present. I began to hear words of hope, of expectation, words of imagination mixed with those first questions in an interesting way. The questions and reflections became more defiant and had a feeling of anticipation sprinkled in. Graduations were coming! Spring was here. Maybe on Pentecost we could. . . Hope began to “ring eternal” again. Those questions of doubt, became questions like: “How soon do you think?” and “When can we?”
Now with the protests and violence we witness, not just in Minnesota, but in Butler, and Pittsburgh, the tone has again shifted back to a place where feelings of pain and doubt resound among us. Just like when the Squirrel Hill shootings happened, the events of this past week feel more personal. The shoulders have slipped back down and chins have been downcast. And the church, you and I, are asking a lot of questions of each other, and of God. The crisis seems to be with us again.
Now with the protests and violence we witness, not just in Minnesota, but in Butler, and Pittsburgh, the tone has again shifted back to a place where feelings of pain and doubt resound among us. Just like when the Squirrel Hill shootings happened, the events of this past week feel more personal. The shoulders have slipped back down and chins have been downcast. And the church, you and I, are asking a lot of questions of each other, and of God. The crisis seems to be with us again.
The Rev. Dr. John C. Welch addresses these crisis, and these moments, in this hopeful manner that I want to share with you. He wrote:
"Crisis come without invitation and at inopportune times.
A crisis can wrench from its mooring the faith of even a strong believer in Christ.
But the strength, courage, and patience to weather through are made possible
By allowing oneself to be placed in the care of our loving Creator God."
My hope today, as you address those questions, and the crisis before us, is that you will find a way to place yourself in the arms of the “loving Creator God.”
Blessings
Rev. Derek
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