For Peace: A Prayer

For the families who wonder when their soldiers--mommies, daddies, sons, daughters, and lovers--will return home
For our leaders whose decisions give them power to be war-filled or peaceful
For those who do not watch bombings on television but see them live in their own land
For the many brave soldiers and the many frightened citizens whose breath is no more
Lord, have mercy
For the times I neglected to pray for peace
For the times I turned deaf ears to genocide and war
For the times I choose the ease of ridicule instead of accountability for our nation’s leaders
Lord, have mercy
For my silence
For our folly
For humanity's self-inflicted lacerations
Lord, have mercy
Amen

Genocide in Darfur

For any Nashvillians who check my blog, I hope that you'll join me next Sunday, Oct. 16, at Fisk University's Chapel. There will be a community dialogue and meeting about the situation in the Darfur region of Sudan. Tennesseans Against Genocide (TAG) is sponsoring this event and bringing in Jerry Fowler, director of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum Committee on Conscience, as the featured speaker. There, we will discuss exactly what we can do to help end genocide in Darfur.

So be there at 2 pm Sunday!

Around the world . . .

I read on UMCOR's Web site an article where some UMCOR (United Methodist Committee on Relief) staff are visiting the war-torn Darfur region of Sudan right now. When news of Katrina devastation reached the group, they--the Sudanese and the people from the US--stopped their work and prayed for the hurricane victims.

Cut to clip of most citizens of the USA upon first hearing the news of slavery and genocide in Sudan:

We read the newspaper, watch the news, and shake our heads in dismay to know that slavery still exists. And then, as quoted in the film Hotel Rwanda, we'll "go on eating (our) dinners." A few of us say some prayers. A few of us, like Jay Williams, interrupt their lives and go to Sudan to be with the people there and to tell their stories. And sadly, many of us are not even aware or don't even take a minute to care. Some of us even ask (as I've heard from too many people), "What's wrong with Africa? They always have problems killing each other."

On a blog I was reading, one commenter said about the hurricane, "Americans are always the first to step up to the plate when other disasters happen, in other countries, and well have we heard from any other country pledging their help and support?"

Well, yes, first of all, we have heard from other countries. But even more disturbing about this person's thoughts is the idea that Americans (U.S., I presume) are the first to help other countries. Are we delusional in the U.S. to think that we play this great, mighty role of savior to the world? How often have we been the first to step up to bat? With the Asian tsunami, other countries were shocked at how little we were giving in comparison to our wealth. Even when considering the resources we have, it’s disappointing to think of how little we are doing for the Gulf Coast even. Often our other "humanitarian" efforts in the world benefit us as much as (sometimes more than) it benefits others.

I retreat from bashing the United States. This country is my home, and it is beautiful. I miss the beauty of it when I'm away. I am reminded, however, that we so often ignore the suffering of the rest of the world. And the rest of the world does not always ignore us. The prayers of those in Sudan humble me. And I pray that we will humble ourselves in prayer for them, as well as for the rest of the world:

• the 147 people killed today in an Indonesian jet crash;
• the unidentified numbers of Iraqi people killed in the Iraq war along with the 1,879 U.S. service members who have died since the start of the war;
• the more than 950 people who died in Baghdad Aug. 31 in a stampede;
• the sufferers of cholera outbreaks in West Africa,specifically the more than 9,000 infected in Guinea-Bissau;
• people around the world that are still enslaved today;
and this is only the beginning of a devastatingly long list. Please let us stop what we're doing and pray.

Reversible/Redeemable

I wanted to blog yesterday about being able to rewind life and clear the the pains inflicted upon us we cannot bear, words we say and didn't mean, the actions we did and wished we didn't, the disasters that interrupt our lives . . .

But I couldn't put all the words together yesterday, so I chose instead to post a poem by Carole Satyamurti referring to nail polish and the comfort involved in painting your nails.

There is something wonderful about being able to stain your fingers in a color as bright as blood and being able to wipe them clean again with a little bit of remover. The stains of nail polish are reversible, unlike many of the stains of our lives.

Life is not reversible. Hurricane victims will always have lost everything. Those in Rwanda during their genocide will always have that as a part of their human experience. The hurtful words I've said have left my mouth for good. People have been stained.

Life is redeemable. Displaced people will find homes. Distraught countries will find peace. Wrongdoings will be forgiven. We don't know how or when, but every moment of life is redeemable. With love as bright as the blood of Christ, we are covered and made beautiful. We are stained, but the stains are redeemable. We can be stained beautiful like glass.

*Stained glass image by Sergiy Shkanov.

250 Words About Waiting

This week’s devotional is titled “waiting to receive instructions.” The Scriptures and prayers are centered around waiting. It’s quite appropriate, as we are in the seventh week of Easter waiting for the celebration of the Holy Spirit’s arrival on Pentecost Sunday.

Think of all of the waiting we do in the Christian calendar year. Advent—waiting for the arrival of the Christ child. Lent—waiting for the crucifixion and waiting three more days for the wonderful resurrection. Then immediately we begin waiting for the Spirit. For those of us who don’t like waiting, we finally get ordinary time until November when we’re not waiting for anything.

But we are. As believers of Christ we cannot go a day without waiting because we believe in the promise of Christ’s return. I empathize with the early church who waited more expectantly than we. While they waited for the return of Christ, they never saw him.

It must have been frustrating. We hear promises that our scarlet sins will be made like snow (Is. 1:18), though we see our sins ever before us. We hear every knee shall bow to praise God (Phil. 2:9-11), though we know so many do not believe. We hear that swords will become plowshares (Is. 2:4). But we know war in Iraq, conflict in the Congo, genocide in Sudan. So we wait.

But the early Christians teach us a lesson. We are people of hope, after all, and hope carries such high expectations. Hope waits, already claiming the victory!

Hotel Rwanda

I mentioned Brad and Jennifer's separation today and was asked if I was absolutely depressed about the news. I said that I think we pay far too much attention to celebrity marriages anyway. So, yes, I was shocked but not depressed.

Later in the conversation I mentioned I was going to see the film Hotel Rwanda tonight. Wearing a look of disdain my friend replied that she would read about Rwanda in The Economist, a fascinating British mag that does decent coverage of the world. I read it, she reads it and most of us read it to get a view of the world while we sip our tall caramel apple ciders from the neighborhood coffee shop conglomerate. We usually feel good after reading it. We feel worldly and aware and well rounded.

I'm sorry she was depressed about Bradifer moving to Splitsville. I'm glad she reads about Rwanda.

I, too, am depressed now. And I, too, want to read about Rwanda.

I saw the film, and wish I had read more about Rwanda in 1994. I wish I had not only read about Rwanda, but I wish that I had seen images of Rwanda. And I wish they had disturbed me then even more than the staged production disturbs me tonight. I wish I had written letters, made phone calls, demanded intervention and freedom for a people being slaughtered and terrorized because of a power God abhors: hatred. I wish that I would react to today's "Rwandas." I wish that my response, my phone calls, my demands would make a difference and would motivate the western world to demand freedom and end terrorism. I mean, that's our thing isn't it? That's what we're all about, right? That's what we're doing in Iraq, after all. The United States and other countries care about people, care to end terror, care to assist in freedom. Don't we? Isn't that what we've been told?

Or maybe the senseless slaughter matters most when the dying live on continents not called Africa and when their flesh more closely resembles the so-called nude crayon in the box. Or maybe the senseless slaughter matters most when we might receive something in return for our efforts. Or maybe the senseless slaughter matters most when it happens to our own people on our own soil. Or maybe senseless slaughter matters most when it won't harm the chances for our representatives, our senators or our presidents to be re-elected.

Or maybe even then it doesn't really matter at all. As long as we still have the freedom to sip our venti nonfat skinny lattes, no whip, while reading about J. Lo's latest beau in Us Weekly . . . maybe that is what really matters.

I am depressed. I won't stay here. Depression is static. Hope has wings. So I will pray to find a way to do more than read about Rwanda. Or watch a film about Rwanda. I want to walk through Rwanda with its people and not desert them again.