There aren't words.
I am beginning to
wonder how many times my heart can be broken for the violence in our world.
In fact, I think the
thing I am most afraid of is a national case of compassion fatigue.
WikiPedia.com, while
not always an authoritative resource, defines the term as follows:
Compassion fatigue, also known as secondary traumatic stress (STS), is
a condition characterized by a gradual lessening of compassion over time. It is
common among individuals that work directly with trauma victims such as,
therapists (paid and unpaid), nurses, psychologists, police officers, first
responders, animal welfare workers, health unit coordinators and anyone who
helps out others, especially family members, relatives, and other informal
caregivers of patients suffering from a chronic illness. It was first diagnosed
in nurses in the 1950s.
Perhaps you see
where I am going with this. I am wondering how many more terrorist acts we can
hurt for. For all of the times I have written on social media and been
criticized, this past Sunday I was criticized for silence. One of my Facebook
friends who identifies and lives as a gay person wondered why me and other
Christians were not expressing our outrage over what has happened in Orlando. I
will confess that because I was traveling last Sunday morning I was not even
aware of what had happened until into the afternoon. But even after I was
aware, words escaped me. Although I trend toward a traditional view of human
sexuality, I was as horrified to learn of this terrible attack upon humanity as
I think I could be. In my heart, it didn't matter if it was a gay nightclub or
a church Bible study. My reaction of shock and sadness is the same…
Except for that it
isn't. It isn't the same every time. I am noticing in my own heart that each
time I hear of a mass shooting or act of violence that it is harder to drum up
the same horror. There is a frightening familiarity to each incident that is threatening
the very nature of my concern. It isn't the demographic target or the location
of the events that are the cause--it is the repetition of incident after
incident. It is the culpability we all have, whether we want to admit it or
not, to become tired of caring.
Caring about these
things takes much personal and spiritual effort. To care for each human being
who dies at the hands of another - whether it is at The Pulse in Orlando or at
the Peachtree Mall around the corner - takes considerable personal energy. We can
so easily develop what I'll call a "compassion callous" that makes it
tougher and tougher to get through our emotional "skin." Caring about
each person hurts. Hurt eventually breaks us emotionally. So it eventually
becomes easier simply to distance ourselves from the source of the pain. We
simply turn off the news. We quit reading the paper. We stop caring. We let
ourselves get to the place where we are no longer surprised or shocked and we
begin to accept a new normal.
So let us not grow weary in doing what is right,
for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.-Galatians 6:9 NRSV
for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.-Galatians 6:9 NRSV
Brothers and
sisters, we cannot stop caring. We must keep letting ourselves feel the pain of
these losses. We must not stop loving people of all kinds. We must resist
becoming jaded and crying out for justice in all the wrong ways. We must not
grow weary in doing right.
I know it is hard.
The times we live in are challenging us in so many ways. More than anything,
though, our ability to love one another is being assailed by the spiritual
forces of wickedness that all Christians should boldly renounce. Christ has not
called us to the easy work, but Christ has called us to the high and holy work.
Lord, may our hearts
continue to be broken.
