I live in StL, I was born here, moved away while my parents did mission work overseas and have moved back ‘home’ and last night broke me.
I am not condoning the violence by any stretch of the imagination but this kind of out cry does not come from a place of feeling like a person is being heard. I can’t help but partially feel as though this is almost Jesus flipping tables in the temple begging his beautiful bride to pay attention to the brokenness I choose to walk by daily.
God is sovereign, He is not surprised by any of this. We have all been fostering this culture of fear, for crying out loud I am super guilty of it. I would rather put stamps in my passport to ‘dangerous’ countries that go to ‘that’ part of town. The fear permeates us all, it is our flesh, which means this ‘race’ issue belongs to us all, but there is hope, there is always hope.
Jesus called us all to something before He was lifted into the clouds, the ministry of reconciliation. First with our own hearts and then the world that surrounds. It is so easy to respond to anger with anger, so easy, but family how does that make us any different.
For me my frustration comes from a place of feeling helpless. For wanting to tangibly make a difference, but the heart of the matter is the broken heart and I cannot fix that. However I can boldly pray for the soil of hearts to be tilled and softened starting with my own.
Just like any mission field I must be obedient and faithful and hit the deck flat on my face and pray, plead and cry out with the broken for mercy and grace from the great healer, because He is steadfast and ever loving.
And my heart is broken, realizing there are parts of my own city I haven’t been willing to go to because I am afraid and in turn a whole mission field 10 miles north of where I lay my head at night to sleep has been ignored by me (if I am truthful I ignore the one on the other side of my driveway as well).
So for me this is where it begins and I beg those reading this to join with me because this is not just about the city that was once known as the gateway to the west. Please pray for your ‘part’ of town that you won’t go to because its not safe, then put your passport back in the sock drawer and go into your Ferguson. Our Fathers heart is broken, it is shredded for the broken and ours should be too. The command was always simple, Love (john15:9-17)
Father God, please forgive my unbelief. Father God, help my unbelief.