So I watched Hotel Rwanda...
It was a little over a week ago now. It feels like last night. I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I picked up that movie for a little relaxing evening home with my wife. Relaxing was the last thing that happened during this particular movie. How can you relax into genocide? Most of the movie my guts were twisted into knots and my heart was crying for mercy. It was horrible. It was real. It was real horrible.
That night, I layed in my bed staring at the ceiling thinking about the world in which I live and wondering why so many days of my life are spent living in my own world. People are being slaughtered by the thousdands even today and is doesn't affect me. Children are dying by the truckloads and I (ok, you won't believe this...just after I wrote this line, my ministry partner came in and told me that a fellow church planter in our area lost his daughter last night in a freak accident at their house. She was taking a nap in her room and the fan fell out of the window on her and suffocated her. My heart is squeezing up as I write) don't care about anyone but my own children and their safety. Wives are being raped, daughters are being ravished, sons are being tortured, Fathers are being executed...and I'm concerned about whether or not we'll have a bassist for our praise band this weekend.
I know, I'm just one of those people who feels deeply about something for the moment and expects everyone else to join him in that feeling only to abandon that feeling next week when I'm swept away into my own little world again and move into the next movie. (hopefully less weighty and more uplifting, right?) So maybe no one else will join me in this gut-wrenching emotion. I don't blame them. I haven't joined anyone else all these years whenever they were trying to get across the idea that the world is a big place and cruel things are happening as we squabble over whether we want lemonade, rasberry lemonade, blackberry lemonade, blueberry lemonade, kiwi lemonade, strawberry lemonade, kiwi-strwberry lemonade, rassleberry lemonade or dingleberry lemonade (yes on know what that is.). I'm sick of myself. Do you ever find yourself sick of your own ability to run from reality?
So this morning a young family lost their little, precious princess to a falling fan. I don't know what to do about that in my spirit. I find myself angry, compassionate and selfishly thanking God that it's not one ofmy daughters. I know the feeling of sympathy won't last long...it never does.
...and today...I've got a problem with that.
That night, I layed in my bed staring at the ceiling thinking about the world in which I live and wondering why so many days of my life are spent living in my own world. People are being slaughtered by the thousdands even today and is doesn't affect me. Children are dying by the truckloads and I (ok, you won't believe this...just after I wrote this line, my ministry partner came in and told me that a fellow church planter in our area lost his daughter last night in a freak accident at their house. She was taking a nap in her room and the fan fell out of the window on her and suffocated her. My heart is squeezing up as I write) don't care about anyone but my own children and their safety. Wives are being raped, daughters are being ravished, sons are being tortured, Fathers are being executed...and I'm concerned about whether or not we'll have a bassist for our praise band this weekend.
I know, I'm just one of those people who feels deeply about something for the moment and expects everyone else to join him in that feeling only to abandon that feeling next week when I'm swept away into my own little world again and move into the next movie. (hopefully less weighty and more uplifting, right?) So maybe no one else will join me in this gut-wrenching emotion. I don't blame them. I haven't joined anyone else all these years whenever they were trying to get across the idea that the world is a big place and cruel things are happening as we squabble over whether we want lemonade, rasberry lemonade, blackberry lemonade, blueberry lemonade, kiwi lemonade, strawberry lemonade, kiwi-strwberry lemonade, rassleberry lemonade or dingleberry lemonade (yes on know what that is.). I'm sick of myself. Do you ever find yourself sick of your own ability to run from reality?
So this morning a young family lost their little, precious princess to a falling fan. I don't know what to do about that in my spirit. I find myself angry, compassionate and selfishly thanking God that it's not one ofmy daughters. I know the feeling of sympathy won't last long...it never does.
...and today...I've got a problem with that.
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