Sunday mornings are a reprieve for me. I walk in, typically greeting a few friends along the way \u2014 some greetings shorter than others, recognizing we each pushed the time to the max hoping not to be late. But I sit, relax, and intentionally attempt to throw off all the thoughts, troubles, and to-do lists on my brain and submit them to someone bigger than me. I try to center myself and be still, preparing for the rest of the week.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s really the bottom line for me. Going to church \u2014 and not like there\u2019s any rule somewhere that we all have to go to the same church every Sunday at 9:30 or whatever a.m. \u2014 but going to church and intentionally resting and refocusing is the recognition that there actually is<\/em> someone bigger than me. I don\u2019t always get it. I don\u2019t understand everything there is to know. But recognizing the reality of God is the start to wisdom and growth. I need that. Without that recognition \u2014 or, in other words, with the ulterior assumption that any of us could possibly be on par with God\u2019s wisdom, omniscience, or goodness \u2014 what\u2019s right and moral in this world becomes ambiguous; what\u2019s right and moral evolves based on individual experience.<\/p>\n While I\u2019ve never been a \u201crule follower\u201d (yes, just ask my parents),<\/em> there is no \u201crule\u201d that says we have to be in church on Sunday mornings. I go not because I follow a rule; I go because it centers me. It helps me refocus. It helps me not put \u201cme\u201d in the center of my world and thinking.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t imagine what it would be like to go attempt to refocus \u2014 and then have the epitome of evil show up.<\/p>\n On Sunday, a man armed most with evil walked into a church building that held about 50 people in a Texas town of only a few hundred. Most churchgoers were injured; 26 died. One survivor, gut-wrenchingly, lost his pregnant wife, three of his children, and his parents, with two more of his children in critical condition at the time of this writing.<\/p>\n At this time it\u2019s too early to know all the details. In fact, with the shooter\u2019s death, we may never know all\u2026 what was in the head of the gunman? \u2026 how long was this planned? \u2026 why here? \u2026 why now? \u2026 what set him off? \u2026 was he ill?<\/em> All are questions we will attempt to find an answer to in the days ahead; all are also questions we may never answer with certainty.<\/p>\n But I can\u2019t get past that here in a weekend gathering, a setting that occurs in all-sized towns across the country in which people come to rest and refocus \u2014 where the people recognize that \u201cwe\u201d are not all there is \u2014 that someone would come blow up the deep sincerity and serenity of that moment. In essence, evil pierced the peace.<\/p>\n That grieves me.<\/em><\/p>\n Regardless of the unknown answers, regardless of the shooter\u2019s potential mental illness, this killing of the innocent is the manifestation of some form of evil. I don\u2019t say that angrily. I say it soberly\u2026 with tears in my eyes and a pit in my stomach. Murder is evil. That grieves me.<\/em><\/p>\n This is a moment, friends, in which we could come together. We could each bow down, refocus, and recognize that there must be something or someone bigger than us.<\/p>\n We are heartbroken about the evil. We are heartbroken about the gruesome deaths. We gasp at the pics of the children whose lives were tragically ended.\u00a0\u201cWhy?! Why did this happen??\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n And in those heart-wrenching questions, we have the potential to together submit ourselves to the only one or thing that has the answers \u2014 because friends, the reality is that sometimes life on this planet simply doesn\u2019t make sense.<\/p>\n What do we do when it doesn\u2019t make sense? For me, it serves as an intentional return to submitting to someone wiser than me. When we fail to recognize that we have often mixed up the positioning \u2014 meaning we put any of us on par with the wisdom and righteousness of God \u2014 conflict ensues.<\/p>\n And then \u2014 as if on some sort of enemy\u2019s cue \u2014 we fight.<\/p>\n We fight. We don\u2019t solve. We don\u2019t grieve. We don\u2019t seek to understand. We don\u2019t say, \u201cLord, help me. Help us all. Help those so hurt by this horrific tragedy.\u201d We instead fight.<\/p>\n And with all due respect to each of us \u2014 as sometimes we are part of the problem \u2014 myself included \u2014 that fighting grieves me even more.<\/p>\n God be with the victims and families in Sutherland Springs, Texas. Be in small town America. Be in our big towns. Be with each of us, too.<\/p>\n Respectfully\u2026 Sunday mornings are a reprieve for me. I walk in, typically greeting a few friends along the way \u2014 some greetings shorter than others, recognizing we each pushed the time to the max hoping not to be late. But I sit, relax, and intentionally attempt to throw off all the thoughts, troubles, and to-do lists … <\/p>\n
\nAR<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"