Many lights are now dark. I cannot imagine the evil. I am struggling to understand how I can respond. I have no answer to the uncertainty of friends who do not know if their children are ok. It seems that darkness is dominating, determined to inflict the worst humanity can imagine or do on everyone.
In retreating to the centre, a place from where I cannot err, I find myself holding onto the promise of love, compassion, and community. As much as I have experienced life when evil dominates events, what is unfolding now is beyond anything I thought possible. The questions I find myself wrestling with include the following.
Love is strong. With a Divine promise of unconditional love and acceptance, I long to reconnect and re-experience Divinity in response to the loss. With the bleak darkness left after bright lights were extinguished, I remembered and reached back into the story of Rebecca. In her case, while “her babies were still innocent in the womb – incapable of good or bad – she received a special assurance from God. What God did in this case made it perfectly plain that his purpose is not a hit-or-miss thing dependent on what we do or don’t do, but a sure thing determined by his decision, flowing steadily from his initiative.” (Romans 9.11)
Love endures. It is hard to believe, especially right now, that love can survive the onslaught. I find the intensity of my love reflects the love that has always been there. In the darkness, it comes out as tears, lament, and despair. The source of my emotions comes from the same place that celebrated relationship experiences when the candles burned bright.
Love is under attack. In the aftermath of the loss, the battle between darkness and light, evil and good, is clear. Life reminds me that the battle continues. Care versus selfishness. Kindness versus greed. Community versus the need of one.
I hear life calling me to share an embrace of acceptance, respect, and support. It is a call to love, even in the darkness.
