Anything could happen to anyone

Anything could happen to anyone — like most people, I don’t think I’ve always realized the import of the weight this truth holds.

Is this truth that has been scrutinized and so verified with measurable data? — Again, like most people, it’s not something I’d bothered to check.

Humor me this? A child is born. After that, what next?

Or, this? Your child is born. After that, what next?

Whether it’s your first or fifth child, do you not feel that fear borne by love for this child, this tiny human dependent on you for everything? For its survival?

Would you not do anything to keep this child safe?

So help me understand, at what point do we stop caring?

At what point did the numbers become just statistics to us?

When we hear the news and see the lives marked in precarious ways by the dealings of a damaged society, do we remember that these men were once tiny humans dependent on others for survival? Do we realize that these women could have been babies who brought so much hope and joy at one time?

Do we see these things, or do we just flip through news channels and turn the pages of the newspapers?

At least we can all agree that society is not the way it should be.

Is it broken, or has it just been tampered with?

Sometimes I think it’s a mutated form of a crucible that poisons instead of preserves what has been committed to it.

Other times I think it’s a beautiful place and time would do its work and the poison would be nutritious blessing. We will be alright.

But there is death in the pot!

Should we just wait it out, or succumb and receive the poison — and hope for a miracle?

What should we do?

What would you do?

I’m a Christian, so I pray — with my brothers and sisters at church, and I try to cover with the dust of fear, doubt and a pointed sense of inadequacy, the truth that faith without works is dead. But what I’ve covered won’t stay buried. It keeps reaching for every small ray of light. At the scent of water it springs up and overturns all my effort to keep that thing down. Let me tell you, it is frustrating!

So I pray more, and dig up more dust, and do the whole cycle again.

This is no way to live. I realize that, but what can I do?

I am agitated.

Because this mutated crucible has expanded its mouth — has anyone else noticed this?

More and more people are being overcome by its poisonous embrace.

And no, our salvation will not come from outside of this place. I think we all know this. We see it.

What would we do?

What should we do?

The way I see it, we could continue to wait for a miracle, or be the miracle.

Let’s break this glass jar and let the poison drain out.

Let’s clean this place up, starting from where we are.

Let’s do the right thing now.

Then do the next right thing.

And then the next right thing….

Maybe that would mean stepping up to the plate and taking responsibility.

Let’s do it because, look, another child has been born — now what?! What next?

Do you really want to just keep flipping through news channels and turning the pages of the newspapers?

Brothers and sisters, we shouldn’t just sit in church and listen to the preacher and say a prayer.

Dig all you want and bury this truth as best you can, but faith without works is still dead — as in, your faith doesn’t look very alive without the works to show it.

But let’s keep praying because, look, another child has been born — now, is this your first, or your fifth?!

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