Hate or mercy, revenge or justice

I couldn't help but think of Colorado as a place of grieving the first time I went there. It wasn't only me who had some issues to wrestle with last summer; it was Leadership Training, or "Lots of Trials" as my friend and pastor Chad calls it. Everyone who went was challenged by something. So I thought of Colorado as both a place of grief and healing. I did end up leaving a slightly healthier person than I was when I arrived, even if it was only by 1 percent. It was a hard but necessary summer that I don't think I could handle again. And now, what do you know, I'm going back in 3 weeks (3 weeks!!!) for the next four years. God must be up to something.

Now, as I think of all the chaos that Colorado has seen lately...first the legacy of the Columbine shootings (in the same town, Littleton, where I will make my new home), the wildfires, and now the shootings in the movie theater...good grief, pun intended. So I'm definitely not the only one who has grieved there.

Sometimes it feels like one person's crisis is another person's bad day, nothing more. If I am to be a chaplain, I'll need to get out of the habit of labeling tragedies; you can't measure grief and say which episodes of pain are more damaging than others. Speaking of my own experiences, I will always try and convince myself that things could be worse. I haven't been as much of an optimist lately as I used to be, but I do know that even when my heart was shattered, my family still loved me. My friends were still there for me. I had food to eat and clothes on my back. I was still blessed. Not every tragedy has ripple effects on a national or global scale: it's a whole new level of hell on earth, one I hope to never experience.

Ever since I heard that news, I've had so many thoughts tangling in my head. I realized that, if I were a chaplain, I'd so much prefer to work with living victims over dead ones, because the living ones have something to look forward to. Dead people obviously do not. You can reassure a living person that life is still worth living, that the story is still being written and that healing comes to those who trust that God never wastes anything, not even pain. But whether I am ministering to live victims or the families of dead ones, one thing remains true: that God is always good, even if man is not. We must not confuse the two.

And speaking of God being good, so was the talk given in church this morning, which really got me thinking...a man whose wallet was stolen in the Philippines confronted the thief and had the opportunity to decide his punishment. A former thief himself in his younger years, the man explained to the teenage pick-pocket that he was shown mercy at his age; now was the chance to do the same for someone else, as Jesus would have done. He could have ordered the teen's fingers to be cut off. Instead, the teen's "punishment" was to put the money he stole in the tithe bucket at the local church. The surrounding witnesses in court were so moved, many of them came to Christ.

Now that is something! I've always heard how grace and mercy change people, and can melt even the hardest of hearts. It makes me wonder what the real point of revenge is...even though it's something I still think about from time to time. It's tempting, because it's instantly gratifying to see someone who made you suffer, also suffer. But what is the lasting effect? That's something we don't always stop to consider.

I can only imagine how many people in Aurora, Colorado would love to take the shooter and deal him the same fate he put on their loved ones. It's a completely understandable human response; clearly, the man who acted with mercy toward the thief who stole his wallet was acting as an instrument of something bigger than himself. Because honestly, no one is that good. I can't think of anyone who would do something like that, completely of their own volition. Certainly not me.

If it were up to me, I'd want to see the person who made me suffer, or someone I love suffer, be punished. I'd want to make him pay. That's the kind of ungrateful wretch I am, and I'm starting to think that if every angry person had their opportunity for revenge, they wouldn't really be healed by it. For one thing, revenge doesn't undo the damage that's already been done. Secondly, you've probably heard the saying before: that refusing to forgive someone is like drinking poison while hoping the other person dies. 

And we continue to wonder why the world is the way it is.

I think if everyone were to realize that we are sinners in the hands of a merciful God, the world would be a completely different place. If only we all could realize that we were made to reflect the image of someone so holy, so perfect, and every good thing we have on this earth is because of him. If only we could see that all of us are in need of mercy because we take those good things, and pervert them in ways they were not meant to be. We are all in debt. But we are all loved equally and extravagantly.