An Interpretation of Violence

We try to make it something less than what it is. Needing to believe that all of this can just be random. These horrible things that happen, they happen to other people, other people in places far away from where we are. Things like this, things that don't happen to you or me...

In our own ways we can make them seem less real than what they are, these stories that end up as front page news. Screaming headlines and bylines, banter across our TV and computer screens allowing us to choose, to read, to hear, to make ourselves aware of every little last detail. This is what happened. This is when. And this, this is where it happened and to who.

Families touched by violence. Families torn apart by violence. Families. Friends. Neighbors. Strangers we'll never know. People we thought we did...

But I am here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing random about violence. It touches us no matter who we are, no matter where we go, no matter if we were there or not. It claims a corner in our living rooms. It's on our mind when we lock our doors at night. It's why we're so careful all the time. Why we do everything that we possibly can to protect ourselves from dangers we've not even allowed ourselves to imagine.

Some call it living in fear. And some would say that's no real way to live at all. My friend Toni likes to say, "When it's your time, it's your time." But I don't believe that. I don't believe God closes his eyes and walks away waiting for all of it to just be done. Even if it is our final moment, our final breath, I believe he's right there, surrounding us with love, holding our hands whispering words of encouragement and faith. He gives us strength when our own is waning. He fills our hearts with the courage to go on and for those whose options are stolen away by whatever violence has claimed, he gives us that same courage to let go.

I understand why people don't want to know. I understand why people choose to ignore it when bad things happen. I understand their fear far better than I do my own. Self-preservation cannot allow danger to get that close to their doors. It is information too much for them to bear. If it can happen to you... If it can happen to me... If both of us are failable, if both of us can know harm, it is we who become the unwelcome messenger, delivering the news that violence is not the random fiend they think it is. Random is what you do not know. The name you never knew to speak. The face your eyes have never met.

But I am not unaffected and I cannot turn a blind eye to the violence that lays waste to humanity each and every day.

One in four.

One in five.

Every ten seconds.

Every ten minutes.

Every hour.

Every day.

Another face. (You know...)

Another name. (You don't know...)

Another someone we might have known.

Another person we'll never meet.

They're out there.

We're out there...

Living with.

Dying from.

For reasons no one will ever pretend they have an answer for.

For reasons that defy anyone to comprehend...