“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

People

 Imago Dei. In the image of God. I look around. 

The upbeat security guard who helps me sign into the museum and shows me where to go with a huge smile on his face. 

The young girl at the local 7-11 who puts my groceries into a bag while welcoming every customer who enters the store. 

The homeless man with his trolley of cardboard boxes and all his earthly possessions who I often see when I walk out the gate of my high rise condominium.

People. 

Created by God. 

In His image.

And I find myself ashamed. I walk past or interact with these people without giving it much thought. Imago Dei. Two words that carry so much meaning for us. Each of the millions of people who live in this city are created in the image of God and their lives have value. How do my interactions with them show that I believe this? I call myself a Christian, do I not? Someone who is a follower of Christ Jesus.

I have an uncomfortable feeling that Jesus' interactions with the security guard, the 7-11 cashier and the homeless man would have been different to mine. 

 

How Long, O Lord?

My heart is heavy today. 

The names of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd are all over social media. For good reason. Cities in America are burning. For good reason. Another innocent black man loses his life. Another black mother grieves a heartbreaking loss. For no good reason. 

And my heart is heavy. I cry out, "How long, O Lord?" 

The sheer weight of it all drove my to my knees this morning. 

Seeing my African-American brothers and sisters exhausted and mourning. Seeing the pure evil of systemic racism, present not only in America but everywhere in this broken world. 

I'm not even American but the issue of racism is one with which I am well-acquainted. As someone who grew up in South Africa the conversation around race is one that is often entered into. But today I don't want to enter into a conversation. Not because it is uncomfortable but because I want to listen.  I want to lament the injustice. I want to weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. I want to do the hard, uncomfortable work of confronting the seeds of racism in my own heart, for we are all affected.

O Lord, you hear the desire of the afflicted; you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed, so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more.

Psalm 10:17-18

 

The Return

After a few years of not writing I am returning to the practise of putting down my words on a keyboard and onto a screen. The words never left me, they have been swirling around in my heart and mind, and for the longest time I refused to let them out. Today that changes.

I am a consumer of words. And sometimes words consume me. By putting them out into the world I am hoping to let out these consuming words.