Sometimes the words flow easily onto the page. Other times it’s a struggle to string them together into coherent thought. Not for lack of words, but simply because there are too many. Too many thoughts to narrow them down to what I really want to say. To decide what are the most valuable to convey. That’s where I find myself today.
I had hoped to get a blog post up for February, but no matter how many times I started, I just couldn’t find the words. So many things running through my head at breakneck speed. Painting pictures on the canvas of my mind more swiftly than I can register their significance. In a word, I’ve been a mess. So, here I am, essentially “blog journaling” to try to make some sense of it all and you’re invited to listen in.
When 2020 dawned, the world stood on a precipice. Within months we were pitched over the edge, kicking and screaming, without any idea where we would land. It was scary and overwhelming. The projected outcomes changing daily. As the world shut down and we circled the wagons, fear was a constant companion. But, as we closed borders and businesses, donned our masks, and shut our doors, even in our isolation, for a brief moment we had each other. We held onto the knowledge that all across oceans and continents, the whole world stopped together and for a breath – regardless of age, gender, culture, and social class – we were united, fighting the same enemy.
But our unity was short lived. And before long, the fractures began to spread, like spiderweb cracks across the surface of a frozen pond. Time has only widened the cracks, turning narrow fissures into vast canyons. Dividing cities, nations, governments, friends, and even families. Quick to speak, to jump to conclusions and to judgments, but slow to listen, to compassion, to hold space for another’s point of view, the rending we have done can seem un-mendable.
Just as we thought the dark night of this pandemic would last forever, the first light of dawn broke. Hope on the horizon. And we held on to that hope like a life line. But our hope seemed short-lived. The cracks expanded. Like breath, exhaling. But without the restorative inhale. Watching the upheaval in our neighbours to the south, the east, the west. Watching the turmoil seething within our own nation, like a boiling pot on the verge of spilling over.
We find ourselves on the edge of precipice once again. With bated breath we wait to see whether we will be plunged over the side. We wait to see where we will land. And I wonder if we will be able to bridge the rifts we have allowed to separate us.
My heart weighs heavy as we watch another rupture spread – one nation ripping into another. Social media and the web are flooded with reports and images of the situation between Russia and Ukraine and while it leaves me undone, I look through them. Searching for that little glimmer of light that I know has to be there in the midst of the dark. My prayers for peace, for protection, for provision run together throughout the day on a constant loop. Refugees fleeing like a flood from the approaching firestorm. The breach widening. I keep vigil over the many feeds and reports from people that I know and love streaming out of Ukraine. The devastation in such a short time will take years to heal again. People living in fear for their lives, sleeping crowded together in bunkers and basements, having left all they know behind, they face an uncertain future, their survival weighing on the kindness of strangers.
And then there are the photos. This week there was one that arrested me. A basement bunker. 6 infants to a crib. At least another 15-20 young children and several adults crammed into the small space. Children. After all the world has endured over the last 2 years, this is the last place that children should be! With spring about to break, and green and warmth soon to return, they should be outside. Enjoying sunshine and fresh air. Cuddling with parents, visiting with loved ones, going to school and playing with friends and siblings. Laughter ringing with abandon. But that is not their reality as they huddle in fear, in cramped spaces, deprived of light and sunshine, and the comforts of home. Fractured. Lord, have mercy.
My heart keeps spilling over. My tears keep falling. For those whose lives have been ravaged by war, by disease, by natural disasters. For those in Ukraine, for families torn apart, for the loss of homes and livelihoods, for children, for parents, for those mourning loved ones, and also the Russian people. People painted evil by the acts of their government. People risking their lives to oppose and protest the choices made by their leaders. Suffering the effects of this war being raged against their wishes. The chasm is wide. The casualties countless. Lord, have mercy.
Contemplating what is happening in our world, not just in Ukraine – though they remain foremost in my thoughts right now, but around the globe. Rents appearing in every nation, the heartache and challenges being experienced in my own community, my personal struggles. I ask the question. How can we ever hope to bridge the abyss that’s spread across our world?
The simplified response is we can’t. Not on our own. No more than sin-broken humanity could span the great divide between man and a loving Creator. How His heart must shatter when He looks at His crowning creation, set on destruction and division, leaving devastation and despair in their wake. The blood of Abel crying from the ground. And then the answer comes. In the first words I ever committed to memory as a child.
That’s where Hope and Life are found. Jesus.
He promised life never-ending, if we would only believe in Him. Yes, in future when our body shells lay down to rest at last. But what about right here, right now? Life in the midst of death. Life against all odds. Life that comes, not from our own strength, but His. Life borne of Love. A love that colours outside the lines. That mends things it didn’t break. That lives unrestricted by hatred and selfish ambition. Jesus came to save. Stretched His arms out wide and called us close. Called us to cross over to the other side. He loved. And He lived that Love in ways that contravened convention. He brought together enemies, healed wounds, embraced the outcast, and harmonized a discordant symphony. And then He called Himself The Way. If we ever needed a road map for today, here it is. The author and embodiment of Love leaving us His example, His path to follow, His footsteps to tread in.
There is only one way to span the cracks, to mend the tears, to transverse the rifts. And while it may sound cliche, it remains true. Love must build the bridge. One plank of kindness and compassion, one girder of forgiveness, one guardrail of grace extended at a time. Love can build the bridges to cross the chasms yawning before us. Upheld and supported by Christ, it will stand unshakeable. And that realization fills me with Hope.
As my prayers bleed for the wounded, the collateral of a million different wars, a video pops up in my feed. Another basement. Another group of people, multi-generational, bundled in coats and blankets, once again crammed together in the small space on benches and mats on the floor. But they are singing. Singing! Some with gentle smiles, some fiercely, others with effort, but they’re singing and there is joy spark. And I think to myself, “Ah, here’s the light!” Shining in defiance of the dark. Shining despite the circumstances.
I am determined to be a part of that light. In whatever way I can. To feed the flame and watch it grow. As a follower of Christ, I choose to pick up my “love plank” and start building. It will mean setting aside my own agenda, my presuppositions, my judgment, my pride and selfishness, my fear. But I want to be a glowing reflection of the Love that lives in me, a part of healing my world. And I am one of many.
As the unified prayers of the saints rise before God’s throne as things in Ukraine have escalated, miracles are unfolding, giving me hope that we can make a difference. Across continents, countries, churches, and communities are joining together to give aid. To lay their own “love plank” to the bridge. People from opposing sides clasping hands in defiance of the fact that they are supposed to be enemies. Strangers becoming friends, opening their homes and businesses for shelter, sharing their meagre resources with people they have never met, providing transportation to safety. People who have allowed politics to separate and petty arguments to segregate, joining forces to fund relief efforts and gather supplies or offer ways of distribution. Taking a stand against the dark at great personal sacrifice. This is Love in action. This is The Way.
While things in our world right now may look bleak, the pain sharp, the cuts deep, and shadows encompassing, there yet remains a light. It’s not going to go out. No matter how hard the dark tries to suffocate it, or hide it, or deny it. It will continue to shine. And my prayer is that years from now, when we look back on this time in history, what is highlighted is not how deep and wide the chasms or what evil accomplished. Rather, let us look back and see, still standing strong and unmovable, the bridge that Love built.
If you are looking for a place to contribute to Ukrainian relief efforts that is successfully getting supplies and resources into the hands of those on the ground, please check out Soul Sanctuary. They are making a difference. https://www.soulsanctuary.ca/community-life-blog/2022/2/26/give-to-ukraine-relief
Of Shattered Things 