Thought of the Week: April 2nd, 2008
We spent much of Monday in the basement, listening to the weather radio, tracking the storms and tornado warnings, and keeping an ear on the driving rain. While we were playing dominoes, amusing an 18 month-old, and ironing, we also prayed.
If we had spent $160,000.00 on a bullet-proof safe bed, called the "Quantum Sleeper," at least a couple of us could have gotten in, closed the dome over ourselves, and been protected from everything that might threaten us: tornado, assault and rape, terrorism, and, of course, ordinary bullets.
We'd have had our own "safe" toilet, air supply, microwave, refrigerator and CD player. Of course, only two could have gotten in, so the rest of the household would have been left outside, and left to their own devices as well. But a couple of us would have been guaranteed survival even in the event of a direct hit. And as I mused about the implications of that, and how the "two" might be chosen, I thought about yet another article that came out last fall. It advertised a $175.00 bullet-proof backpack, guaranteed to repel bullets from a handgun shot from just a few feet away. The video from the manufacturer, "MJ Safety Solutions," has the creator of the backpack saying, "I want to keep my kid safe. If you want to try to fight the good fight, or fix the world's hurts, I can't help you, but my kid's going to be safe..."
What has happened to make us so paranoid? Why is it that we have decided that the whole world is dangerous to us, or our children? And why are our lives worth more than anyone else's, anyway?
What makes "fighting the good fight," or even "fixing the world's hurts" laughable? (And when did we forget that "fighting the good fight" is, biblically, about obedient faith in God?) How has trusting God to save us from despair even in the midst of suffering, become less valuable than trying to guarantee safety for ourselves?
From the perspective of Easter, these are questions worth pondering. What if Jesus had decided that his personal security was worth more than "fixing the world's hurts?" What if the early followers of Jesus had opted against "fighting the good fight?" And what if we, who proclaim eternal life, make choices that show the unbelieving world, and our own children, that safety, security, and personal survival, at any cost to others, is somehow our real family value?
