But these days it's hard not to see that the world is not a particularly pretty place. The venom, the hatred, the racism and misogyny that fill our news headlines these days are hard to miss, and when the dog woke me at 3 am this morning I was never able to return to sleep because my mind was so filled with sadness for all the horrendous things people are saying and doing to each other.
And the truth is, the church, though I haven't engaged with it for several years now, has just let me down again. So a part of me, when I see this message scrawled upon a city wall, recoils: I strongly suspect the writer is as naive in his or her faith as I once was, awash in sentiment and longing to convert the world, with little or no respect or thought for those whose lives they seek to change.
And yet -- deep in my heart, I believe this statement is true. For all my Buddhist leanings, I still believe there was this divine man, Jesus, who was somehow able to feel and communicate God's immanent presence and immense compassion for all of creation. And so I find some small childlike part of me is somewhat reassured; reminded that despite all the ugliness, entitlement, anger and greed there is still love. Certainly I have that love in my own life, from my family and my friends; it seems stronger every day. But is it enough to overpower all that hate and vituperation?
Perhaps not in every moment of every day. But like the rope in the snowstorm, that leads the farmer from house to barn and back again so he can keep his animals fed, the thread of that love helps keep me on the path, and guides me back to the heart of being. In times like these, overwhelmed as we can become by the repulsive and grotesque dark side of human nature, I think that's all we can ask.
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