One crisis at a time

It’s Saturday morning, May 28, 20”22. I collect, sort, and filter my universe on the front porch, as with most mornings. I will leave with Jan in just a few minutes to get a haircut and then go to the ballfields in Goodlettsville.

Headlines have been read, and a follow-up read on those that perked my interest. This has been a week of crisis: topping the list would be two big ones, Robb Elementary School shooting in Texas and the Putin’s war in Ukraine. But, unfortunately, the thing those two have in common; is a man who became lost in their own logic, heaping catastrophic consequences on our fellow human beings.

I’m not finished thinking about Robb Elementary. And Putin is too diabolically egotistical for me to give it a response. Other than that, the judgment of God awaits him.

Two other crises in my own little world attacked my equilibrium. One is Jan’s battle with pancreatic cancer; a PET scan has been scheduled to see what is happening. The other is a high school buddy who has just been told he has “white matter on his gray matter,” causing him to slowly lose his identity. I’m having a visceral but different emotional response to each.

However, the crisis of the past week that captured my thinking this morning occurred on Wednesday night. After the Wednesday night youth meeting at her church, our granddaughter, just three months into her sixteenth year, was driving back from Springfield when a pickup truck ran right through a stop sign in front of her. She slammed into the rear quarter panel of the pickup truck and ricocheted into a steel utility pole head-on. Her best friend was in the front seat, and her older brother was in the back. All three were unscathed except for seatbelt, airbag bruises, and minor bumps.

Her family joined us on our front porch until after eleven o’clock, retelling the events. So, you might refer to it as a “debriefing session.”

One bit of information I received about the accident mid-Thursday afternoon still troubles me. Our granddaughter said the man driving the truck had gotten out of his vehicle and asked if they were okay. After that, he got back in his truck and did not get out again. I thought that was oddly sympathetic and rude. However, that afternoon I heard that the man was black. Suddenly I understood! And cringed at the understanding. The man may have caused the accident, but our culture’s racial tension created the fear that made him take a defensive posture after the accident. I am confident that he would have done what he could to help my kids if there had been a need.

No one should live in that kind of environment! We, all of us, need to fix this. Not as a society but as human beings. I need to fix myself and boldly live it in the open. And especially as a follower of Jesus Christ.

At the base of all, I believe is the firm conviction that what God wants from me is to; Love God, Love God’s people, and love the people God loves the way God loves them. Each follower of Jesus ought to have the world view that to whomever God offers compassion, mercy, and grace, we need to do the same. We must learn to focus on the “image” we were each created in and not how we have contaminated and distorted that image.

The word “Christ” means just that. Not to have such a view is not to behave like a Christian.

Now, I can deal with one or two of the other crises in my life.

Photo – Something peacefully beautiful seems to be in order for this blog post. I took this picture two years ago.