Outrages enough for all

This issue of the TEXAN has stories of events that we could all agree are outrageous. Children are beheaded for being from Christian families; their murderers get a prison sentence more appropriate for a bank robber. Other Christians are murdered in Nigeria and Ethiopia for rejecting another “peace-loving” religion. Nursing homes are forbidden from blocking the killing of clients by “merciful” physicians–on the home’s own property. An influential segment of the Israeli government is suggesting that evangelism should be made illegal. And so it goes. It’s all outrageous, and not just this paltry selection of terrible things.

Add to this a selection of things that some of my fellow Americans find upsetting but I don’t so much, and you’ve got a potential rebellion on every corner. Let’s not, though.

I am trying to pay attention. On my better days, I’m not outraged so much as saddened by the parade of sorrows that depraved humanity joins with such energy. We see some of the aftermath of mankind’s best efforts at fixing things in places like Brooke Army Medical Center. It can be shocking and poignant until it leaves us speechless, but I reject the notion that we should be hopeless, or often furious.

Outrage is occasionally useful. Jesus was outraged when he cleared the temple. Moses was outraged when he came down from Sinai the first time. Determination is useful more often; so is faith, and also hope. These things are far more common than fury among those God gave us for examples.

We are not without comfort in the midst of daily alarms. Neither are the more immediate victims of murder, war, and injustice.

We also know that the redemptive purpose of God is more than sufficient for the things that frighten us (Romans 5:15-21). We know that the most unanswerable tragedy is already in the process of being worked out (Romans 8:18-25). The best use of our time, then, is to find our calling–our part of the load, and bear it well. To be distracted by every news brief or e-mail forward is to be like the general who got on his horse and rode off in all directions.

And no general who rode a horse ever had the access to information (much of it outrageous) that we have today. We hear about a home invasion in Wichita and double check our doors assuming it could happen in our home, any minute. We read about a city council across the country from us that wants to ban the pledge of allegiance and we get our back up on that community’s behalf, even if ours is very different. It’s not usually our part of the load, so it’s a distraction.

Of course, those who seem to me to be too often in the outrage mode are trying to recruit workers for their cause. They assume, maybe rightly, that many of us watch complacently instead of seeking our own calling. In an effort to engage the passive in the fight, a fight, any fight, they send their calls out as broadly as they can. I guess that was the clumsy intent of the bumper sticker. Understandable but overdone.

So give peace a chance. There is a place of engagement between complacency and freaked out. There’s a place for each of us that still leaves us peace amid the storm. The men Jesus gave his peace to in John 20:21 were mostly future martyrs. The same is true to a lesser degree of Paul’s “grace and peace” greetings in his letters to churches.

No one is denying that the storm is real. There is horror in seeing the innocent and the guilty alike swept overboard as the ship lurches and rolls wildly. There is a role for those who guide the ship into the wind, another for those who manage the sails, a huge role for those who rescue the perishing, and a place below deck for those who mend the injured. There is just not much need for people who only shriek and complain.

It’s more likely that those of us who are not usually outraged know something that the easily panicked do not get. We are paying attention and agree that things are serious. That’s why we preach a hope more serious and pertinent than any action that has entered into the heart of man.