Red Lake

Earlier, friends mourned English teacher Neva Rogers, the only teacher slain in the shootings.
While some Red Lake High School students crouched under their desks in a corner, Rogers stood out in the open and began to pray.
“God be with us. God help us,” 15-year-old Ashley Lajeunesse heard Rogers say after telling students to hide as Jeff Weise shot through a window and marched into the room.
“He walked up to that teacher with the shotgun and he pulled the trigger but it didn’t fire,” said Chongai’la Morris, 14. “Then he pulled out his pistol and he shot her three times in the side and once in the face.”
Rogers, 62, was the only teacher killed by Weise, a depressed teen who shot to death his grandfather and his grandfather’s girlfriend, then went to the school and killed Rogers, a security guard and five students before shooting himself.

I am realizing how hollow our theological words often ring. As I want to claim that God is redeeming his creation now–and drawing us back to himself, I am reminded of the pain and suffering we go through.
That pain and suffering is where God lies, yet we try to move the sufferer along. Tell them that God is in control, that it is all part of God’s plan. How ridiculous. My God better be able to shed a tear over Red Lake, over Columbine, over Iraq, over WTC, over Auschwitz…
It is admist that evil that God must be present. As the bullets fly and hate is unleashed, I pray that God is not there to stop the pain, because pain is inevitable, but to heal the pain.

I don’t want to argue, discuss God’s providence–it is not that He is “directing” or “orchestrating” the pain and suffering in our lives. I want to know-see-feel what the impact is upon Christ. What if Christ is being crucified (suffering) again and again due to us/me?

The Prayers of God (small portion)

I lynched Thee?

Awake me, God! I sleep!
What was that awful word Thou saidst?
That black and riven thing—was it Thee?
That gasp—was it Thine?
This pain—is it Thine?
Are, then, these bullets piercing Thee?
Have all the wars of all the world,
Down all dim time, drawn blood from Thee?
Have all the lies and thefts and hates—
Is this Thy Crucifixion, God,
And not that funny, little cross,
With vinegar and thorns?
Is this Thy kingdom here, not there,
This stone and stucco drift of dreams?

…Prayest Thou, Lord, and to me?
Thou needest me?
Thou needest me?
Thou needest me?
Poor, wounded soul!
Of this I never dreamed. I thought—

Courage, God,
I come!

by W.E.B. DuBois

What if our actions are crucifying the Lord far worse than the thorns did? What if God needest me?
Well I sure as hell aint doing a good job.

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