I had nothing left.

Isn’t that how we always feel right before we are asked to take one more step?

Faith hanging in the balance

Anticipating the Ferguson decision.

Sickness seeping through my body, throat into chest.  No voice left.

Unable to get where I needed to go tonite because the roads were closed down after someone was hit by a car.

Slumping over at the wheel, stopped at the side of the road.  I feel depleted.

So, Dad takes care of dinner and I creep up to my bed.

The kids bring me some food and ice water.   I find comfort in a favorite movie.

Then, later…

The kids in a big discussion downstairs, their voices rise to our bedroom.

Drew asks, what are they talking about?   I can’t hear.  I can’t move.  Too sick to care.

So later, when one of them comes upstairs to check in, we ask.  What was the discussion down there?

They were discussing religion.  They were talking about how they couldn’t just buy into one way of thinking.  Josh says Mythology has about as much proof as the Bible.

They are just kids, but they read.   And read.  And read.   And think.

My daughter lays on my bed and I ask, “What do you think?”

She is honest.  She says she just can’t understand a God that would kill people for not doing what he said and then later say- it’s all about forgiveness?

Old Testament to the New, it feels like a different God.

It no longer adds up.

And then!  She says, comes war.   “My God is better than your God!”   And the violence begins.  Shakes her head and eyes burst with questions.

In our efforts to let our kids think for themselves, they end up thinking just like us.

So many fragments of what used to be.

Then, after the kids are tucked in, the Ferguson decision comes in.   Facebook lights up.  My white friends cry out- JUSTICE!   My black friends say- No surprise.

The divide continues to grow.

So much oppression.   In the church and out.   Where do we belong?

Listen for the voice of Love.   That is all I can do.   Where do I hear it these days?

Unexpected gifts.

Encouraging texts.

Authentic authors.

Friends who stick close.

Let the fragments just be.   

Who knows what may rise?