I love my country, and I'm perpetually reminded how thankful I am to live here. There are times, however, when I'm a little embarrassed to be an American. Usually this occurs at an all-you-can-eat buffet where our American indulgence, wastefulness, and obesity are flaunted as boldly as our stars and stripes. We are unique and blessed among nations, but we are far, far from perfect.
Most recently, my embarrassment has come over events unfolding outside a mosque in Phoenix this week. Ostensibly gathered for a "cartoon contest," the event was actually designed as a media spectacle in which people waved not only their flags, but their First Amendment rights in the face of the watching world. The "contest" mimicked the one staged in Texas earlier this month, where participants were encouraged to draw their own caricatures of the prophet Muhammad. We all remember how that ended. The big difference this time was that the event was held outside a mosque--the very mosque attended by the men who tried to shoot their way into the Garland, Texas, cartoon contest.
The website promoting the Phoenix event encouraged participants to bring their guns: "People are also encouraged to utilize their Second Amendment right at this event just in case our First Amendment comes under the much anticipated attack."
Is this why the First Amendment was created? So that we could provoke one another to violence? How is this not bullying? The very thing we decry on our playgrounds and in our schools? The definition of bullying is unwanted, aggressive power exercised by one person (or group) over another, usually with the intention of forcing the bullied person into some action. I don't believe you can force someone, at least not a mentally stable someone, into mass murder. Everyone is responsible for their own actions. But if not forcing, these contest organizers are at least begging Muslims to strike out against them. They are bullies armed for war, knocking at the front door of those they want to demean and battle. And the worst part is that they're wrapped in American flags, speaking the language of freedom and rights and all that we hold dear in this beautiful nation.
The more I talk to people from other cultures, the more one thing is clear: People all over the world perceive Americans as arrogant. Even worse, they perceive this as a Christian nation, therefore linking Christians with arrogance. That is heartbreaking.
While not a Christian nation statistically speaking, we are a nation filled with millions who still long to follow Christ and live out His teaching. Thankfully, many of these folks also showed up at the Phoenix mosque. They came with signs about love and peace. They stood up to the bullies with Truth, and maybe they captured the attention of a Muslim or two in the process.
"Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other." Galatians 5:26
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Monday, May 11, 2015
Remembering a Princess
"My daughter died like an ant."
His words cut me to my core. He was a young Nepalese man being interviewed by an American journalist. He had just recently finished building a house for his wife and their young daughter. What he had built with his own hands, his masterpiece, was demolished in a matter of seconds. Some unseen plates shifting beneath the earth's surface rocked this man's life forever. Much more than the loss of his house, this man agonized over the death of his daughter, barely more than a toddler. He dug for long hours to pull her out, only to find her dead. The journalist had been with him part of that time and caught the raw anguish when his search brought the dreaded result. He wept into the camera: "My daughter, she died like an ant."
As the evening news transitioned to the $300 million Mayweather-Pacquiao fight, my mind stayed fixed on this father half a world away. Oh, sir, can you hear me? Are my silent prayers strong enough to reach you across the TV screen, across the miles and the oceans, across the rubble that is your country? Can you hear the truth that I'm shouting to you in my mind? Your daughter did not die like an ant. She was a child of the one, true living God. He was her Creator. He handcrafted her with as much love and joy as you had when you built a home for her. She was made in His image. She was--she still is--greatly loved, as much as any great king who's ever lived. She was as valuable as any royal princess. Her worth was greater than anything we can measure. The God of the universe saw each tear your daughter cried. And though she was surely frightened at the end of her life, she was not alone. The God who wipes away every tear was with her.
As new disasters, new storms, new victims and celebrities and political candidates push Nepal out of our evening news, let's remember to keep praying for those who have lost so much.
His words cut me to my core. He was a young Nepalese man being interviewed by an American journalist. He had just recently finished building a house for his wife and their young daughter. What he had built with his own hands, his masterpiece, was demolished in a matter of seconds. Some unseen plates shifting beneath the earth's surface rocked this man's life forever. Much more than the loss of his house, this man agonized over the death of his daughter, barely more than a toddler. He dug for long hours to pull her out, only to find her dead. The journalist had been with him part of that time and caught the raw anguish when his search brought the dreaded result. He wept into the camera: "My daughter, she died like an ant."
As the evening news transitioned to the $300 million Mayweather-Pacquiao fight, my mind stayed fixed on this father half a world away. Oh, sir, can you hear me? Are my silent prayers strong enough to reach you across the TV screen, across the miles and the oceans, across the rubble that is your country? Can you hear the truth that I'm shouting to you in my mind? Your daughter did not die like an ant. She was a child of the one, true living God. He was her Creator. He handcrafted her with as much love and joy as you had when you built a home for her. She was made in His image. She was--she still is--greatly loved, as much as any great king who's ever lived. She was as valuable as any royal princess. Her worth was greater than anything we can measure. The God of the universe saw each tear your daughter cried. And though she was surely frightened at the end of her life, she was not alone. The God who wipes away every tear was with her.
As new disasters, new storms, new victims and celebrities and political candidates push Nepal out of our evening news, let's remember to keep praying for those who have lost so much.
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