Three years ago today I stood in front of the Eiffel Tower while a misty fog rolled in, obstructing the top from my view. I was in France for work, my first time in Europe, and we had a few free hours that Saturday to see some sites before heading home. As the fog settled in, it changed my view of the City of Lights. I was a little bummed; I wanted the typical tourist photo. But what I got was unique. The buildings were softer in the haze. The city lights were dim, but they were still there. I gained a perspective not every tourist gets. Paris has been on my mind a lot this week, as I'm sure it has been on yours, too. We've heard the news, seen the photos, watched the videos. I cannot imagine the pain of those who lost loved ones - and for all, who lost a sense of security. They mourn the loss of life, and the loss of "this type of thing would never happen here." And as the world watches, the "post-attack" fog is threatening to settle in as we figure out how we feel, and as we watch ourselves, and others, react. Sometimes with very strong emotions. Understandably, there's anger - at the humans who were responsible, at humans we'd like to hold responsible but may or may not ultimately be, and at God who allowed it to happen. There's fear, which brings up those repetitious thoughts and words I hear too often - why would anyone ever want to travel abroad? I don't want refugees in my country. I don't want what happened there to happen here. The fog of anger and fear threaten to cloud our perspective. They lead us down a road of assuming we should do whatever we can to protect ourselves, our American dream, our lives. May we not allow this fog of emotions we experience deter us from having a perspective and response that is in line with what Christ calls us to as his followers. I read this article last night, and I can't get it off my mind. I'll leave you with a few quotes from the author, because I can't say it better than he can: "...as Christians—as followers of Jesus—we live by a different script when it comes to what we’re supposed to do with the threat of bad people doing bad things. We don’t get to ask, as our default question, “How can I protect myself and my way of life?” but “How does the love of Christ constrain and liberate me in this particular situation?” And all of this is, of course, for the simple reason that as Christians, we are convinced that ultimately evil is not overcome by greater force or mightier weapons or higher walls or more entrenched divisions between “good people” and “bad people,” but by costly, self-sacrificial love. The kind of love that God displayed for his friends and his enemies on a Roman cross. We don’t get to speak and act as if fear is a more pragmatic and useful response than love."
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Amy WellnerEncouraging others to intentionally live out their God-given identity. Archives
September 2022
Categories
All
|