Last night I was speaking briefly to my wife about a particular issue we’re dealing with–or that seems to rear its head from time to time–and I thought of an incident from the Stephen King novel ‘Salem’s Lot, where two of the main characters want to destroy a small enclave of vampires all at once. I don’t remember exactly why they did it the way they ultimately chose, but what they did was drag the vampires from the small and darkened basement where they were holed up during the daytime into the bright afternoon sun. The vampires didn’t make it to sunset.
I was thinking that’s pretty much what we do with our sins.
We hide them in the dark because dragging them into the light ruins their entire day.
Sin only survives in darkness. And while it is curled up and sleeping in the basements of our consciousness, we go into the light ourselves because we have to function.
We have jobs, or we go to school, or we parent
We often don’t speak of our problems with sin because if they don’t hurt anyone…
Scratch that. They always hurt someone eventually. Us, or those we love.
You can’t destroy your personal vampires if you keep them in the dark. You can’t deal with the issues that arise from sin if you don’t deal with them by confession and repentance. By that I mean telling someone about the problem, and then turning away from it and heading in the other direction.
Just because we like to hide our sins in the darkness, doesn’t mean we should stop at that. Hiding in the darkness isn.t enough. Not by a country mile.
Jesus loves us as we are, it’s true. But he loves us enough not to let us stay that way. He’s a mag-lite in the darkness where we hide our ‘stuff.’
It isn’t enough.
If you really want to rid yourself of sin, of personal vampires, drag those blood-sucking bastards into the light. It’s the only thing that works.
I read something today from a United States Congressperson regarding “thoughts and prayers,” and their perceived effectiveness or efficacy in stopping shootings, or maybe it was in offering protection. I don’t remember the exact words, but it occurred to me the statement was sort of missing the point.
I do not believe people offering ‘thoughts and/or prayers to or for people are typically looking to stop something from happening, or make something else happen in regard to situations that are harmful or dangerous to some people and not harmful to others. Speaking only for myself, I’d say that if I offer prayers to someone, or tell them I’ll pray for them, what I’m usually looking to get across is that God offers them solace or comfort through a situation rather than deliverance from it, although God is God and I am not, so if that’s his will I also pray that’s what happens.
It just seemed to me that to disparage prayers from anyone for offering them in a given situation as being not effective or worthless in some way to me implies that the person flinging forth the disparagement does not understand God, or prayers, or the heart of people offering them.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I’ve never really protested anything significantly, or felt persecuted because of something I believe or do not believe in.
I remember reading pages and pages about how people in the 60’s protested the war in Vietnam or civil rights for all people. I didn’t agree with all of it, but I sort of understood it.
College in the 60’s–the decade I was born–was pretty tough. I think of things like Kent State, and that tower sniper in Texas.
I don’t believe it’s as rough today as many young people in our culture today would indicate. Seems to me the thing today to do is protesting when someone conservative comes to give a talk of some kind on your campus.
That’s social injustice for sure.
Because conservatism as a way of life means you’re a dirty racist and a persecutor of some kind.
And you hate people who don’t agree with you.
I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but that certainly isn’t true of me or other people I know who are either fiscally or politically conservative.
And I think socialism is such a popular ‘thing’ these days because it sounds great on paper, but…look how great it works in other places around the world.
And no, I am not part of the one percent. I just don’t feel I’m owed anything based on my existence alone.
But that’s me.
33 years ago yesterday, three of us walked up Double M Road and cut across the ruins of this old dairy to go play basketball at a nearby elementary school, which we all happened to have attended just a few years before.
Just to the front of the dairy there was a wide dirt spot near a pepper tree that was covered with a puddle of what looked to be blood and some other things. My friend nearly dropped the basketball in it. We could only guess what had happened.
We continued on and ended up just taking free throws for a while instead of an actual game. One of the group wasn’t there and we had an odd number. Our friend had planned to graduate early to join the Marines but we still expected to see him around. We didn’t that day.
The next day we went to school as usual and fairly early in the morning they wheeled in a TV on a cart so we could watch the Challenger launch. We did, and everyone was shocked when it exploded shortly after takeoff.
We got off the bus outside my house as we usually did and one of our peripheral friends was waiting to tell us about our friend we hadn’t seen that day. Turns out the mess under the pepper tree was from him–he’d walked there sometime the night before and shot himself in the head.
All anyone talked about for days was the Challenger disaster and I get that. It was terrible. Yet on that day–33 years ago–all I could think about was my friend Ben.
I remember we sang a song in his memory during men’s chorus and the teacher just let us all cry and hug and all that. There was only about a dozen of us, and a big hole in Ben’s spot.
Yet we sang “Ain’t Got Time to Die” and we remembered our friend.
I thought about him today as we got the boys ready for school and my wife and I for various other things.
But I remembered him. I thought of his shaggy blonde hair and his bass voice and bass guitar. I remembered how nice he was to my mom and sisters.
He was such a good dude.
And there are some things you can never forget.
Here is a thought that came to me moments ago:
I am constantly reminded of the face and presence of God when I see my children.
When I feel the warmth of my wife’s hand on my shoulder as she reaches out to me in her sleep.
When I feel an outpouring of love from friends and family during an occasionally tough season.
When God wakes me up another day.
I am so grateful.
There’s a single line from the movie “The Color Purple” I thought of just now, and I found myself sort of…wishing it on my wife’s former employer, on her behalf. Celie’s family has finally had a huge blowup fight and she curses Mister and says, “Until you do right by me, everything you do gonna fail.”
These people, and the way they do things, has me wishing abject failure on their every endeavor. Then again, justice belongs to the Lord, not me.
Still, for some reason they did ill by my wife. Who knows why?
Yep. Failure for them.
I say this with the realization that it isn’t particularly kind, and likely is nowhere near what my girl is thinking.
It isn’t the ‘Christian’ thing to think.
But I am human and fallible and it’s what I was thinking. Yet I want God’s favor on my family. I think any good man does.
With that in mind, may God reach out to these people and touch their hearts in some way.
Even if they’re withered like salted plums.