Do I Really Have Anything to Say?

I wrote this a few weeks back but never published it. The message is still good, though so here it is:

This Sunday, my pastor, opened the sermon with a few well-deserved and well-spent minutes on the school shooting in Connecticut. Emotional throughout, he was understandable grieving for the children, school staff, and their respective families. At one point, he made a point that I had always intuited, yet had never explicitly identified to expressed. He said that, as humans, “We all want justice for others but mercy for ourselves”.

There has been death all around me these past few days. First, my last grandmother passed away. Hours later, I learned of the shootings at the elementary school, and finally a friend had her dad pass, rather unexpectedly. I wasn’t close to any of these three events and didn’t know any of these souls very well (no, that’s not a typo and I make no guarantees that I’ll ever get into that here). When hearing my pastor’s words, I simultaneously thought of the first two of these events and again upon learning of the last late Sunday night.

Throughout their lives, adults could have wronged others, could have created enemies, could have fostered a sense that others would like to see them brought to justice. Not legally, of course, but morally, inter-personally, among those who had been a part of their lives. We all have one such relationship – heck I’ve got lots of ’em, maybe on both sides of the equation! – but in death, we’re wont to absolve others of these wrongs and pray mercy on their souls.

We also want nothing but justice – both legally and for his soul – for the perpetrator of such an act as occurred in Newtown. We want him proven guilty and, had he lived, would want him executed after many years in a very rough prison. We would also want him to meet the Evil One, to live in darkness and pain forever for what he has done.

Yet, as Christians, as we learn of what was likely a troubled life, we also pray that those demons be exorcised, his soul be put at ease, and that he be healed, lest he spend that eternity in hell. Isn’t that what mercy is, after all?

But as I age and consider my own demise 30-odd years on, I can’t help but wonder how many people would want justice for me versus the mercy I would pray for myself. I’m no shooter, and I’ve not got enough years to tell if my children will harbor any ill will toward me as they become adults themselves. But I can tell you this: I’m observing what made me want justice and doing the opposite; and I’m mirroring the behavior that I hope will foster mercy.

Because, while I know He is merciful and graceful beyond understanding, I’d rather take no chances.

Tags: Newtown