Unresolved

So coming to grips with brokenness is a heartrending experience. Naturally.

And it's supposed to be, right? Sometimes the thought creeps into my head, "when will it quit?"--that brutal, continual realization that so many people are shrouded in such a thick and empty darkness (and tragically, may not even realize it). But then I have to concede that for those of us who have been relieved of that darkness, God will not have us forget his children who yet live in it.

It's pretty humbling how every time I get to thinking my life problems are totally unfair, or painful, or maybe even crippling, I end up being reminded of the gift of grace I've been blessed with...because I'll see someone who is without it. Every workday I see people who are either dying from AIDS or will be one day if things don't change...but nearly everyone I see, sick or not, is dying in a much more profound way. But most of them don't even know it.

And I hear things -- I read things -- that all point to how there's so much more suffering in the world than peace. I'll hear about another bombing in the M.E.; I'll find out about a friend who was hurt by someone they love; I'll read about the new suicide rates. (I just read To Write Love On Her Arms, if you're wondering what specifically triggered this post...)

Thank God I can take peace from the obvious-yet-elusive reminder my dad gave me a few weeks ago as I was trying not to sob on his shoulder: we, as humans, are not ultimately responsible for the choices other people make. God only holds us responsible for our own actions (which normally is intimidating, but in this case, is a relief).

But I do still get angry -- angry because it's not fair, angry because people are telling them lies, angry they are telling each other lies, angry at myself because I don't quite know how to tell them the Truth. And I get frustrated, because I feel like my life is now made up of a web of lines (both man's and God's) that shouldn't be crossed, and I get frustrated because when I leave at the end of the day I just want to forget, because forgetting means I won't have to be on edge for a few hours. And I do sometimes. I think God understands. He knows it hurts to see it...to be confronted with so many kinds of death that you start to get innoculated against it. But of course, that's yet another fine line.

I count it as a great blessing that all this makes my appreciation for what I have in Christ much more exquisitely felt. "Gratitude" is such an inadequate word for my response to God--involuntary, bewildered joy might be more accurate. But beautiful as that joy is, it's still tainted, I'm afraid, while I know that there are so many who do not share in it.

I'm not being self-righteous, by the way. I'm just being honest. I just had to get this off my chest. Although, I suppose I'm of the opinion that more people should have it weighing on theirs..

I haven't found the balance yet.