Grind

In coming back to New York, I always find myself caught in a mixed set of emotions.  On one hand, I find an incredible energy in the city.  I am caught in the same pull that inspires New York's artists, musicians, photographers, writers, and other creative types.  I also find myself trapped in the grind that you find etched on the faces of far too many New Yorkers.  The repetitive nightmare of commuting, traffic, and the general hassle of accomplishing the ordinary extract a toll that ultimately seems to defy the limits of human frailties.  The inherent hassle of a community too large to be understood, the thirst to be known when few seem to care, and the unending pace of it all creates an unlimited and unending level of stress.
To say that any and every one of us is overwhelmed is stating the obvious.  Clearly we are.  To say that the world is full of evil is yet again stating the obvious.  Even the fact that others are conspiring to make matters worse should not be a surprise. 
There is comfort in knowing that we are not the first generation to face the grind.  Even in a simpler time, Evil played with the lives of those striving for good.  In one case, “they grabbed Stephen and took him before the High Council.  They put forward their bribed witnesses to testify: 'This man talks nonstop against this Holy Place and God's Law.'” (Acts 6.13)  Whatever one's defense, the harsh reality is that Evil plays havoc in your life and mine.
There is hope in knowing that even in the grind, you and I can make a difference to those around us.  Stephen stood for what was right.  As a result, others felt his hand and God's.  You and I have the same opportunities in the lives that intersect with our own.  In the grind, we can respond with compassion.  We can disperse mercy.  We can accept others as they are.  In the present grind, we can be God's hands, eyes, ears, feet, and even voice.