It’s no secret that August has been an…interesting month. Volatile. Heartbreaking. Incomprehensible. Israel and Gaza. ISIS and extermination of Christians. Depression and suicide. Ice buckets and ALS. Clashes between police and community.
There are a lot of people out there saying and writing plenty about these things. I have little to nothing to add. In many cases I’m just not sure what to even think let alone what to say.
So this post isn’t really about any of those things. It’s about the times when we’re overwhelmed by the brokenness of this world, when we realize that no amount of awareness or legislation or fundraising or foreign policy can fix things. It’s about the moments we teeter on the edge of despair and wonder what it’s all for, when we want to escape into a book or a movie or our own little family circle and block out all the bad, but at the same time we feel guilty for doing it. It’s about wishing for another world. Waiting.
It’s about putting our hope in the promise of all things made new.