I've been doing a lot of reading about the Occupy Wall Street protests, and similarly, the ones that have spread throughout the country and the world. Egypt too is in violent clashes, angry citizens eager for their opinions to be heard and invoke actions to be carried their way.
Unrest.
An inability to rest.
I have struggled over where I stand on these issues. Specifically the Occupy movement. The more I know, the more I understand about the government and economy, the less I am at ease. I begin to understand that there is more going on than my optimistic mind likes to think. The more I beg for Christ to come. These outcries may be legitimate, a desire for hope, a desire for pure motives and actions. But humanity cannot. Cannot be pure. Cannot be good in motive. Even within these good-intentioned protests, we find violence and sin, rape and murder.
Perhaps what we cry out for is in fact, the existence of good.
Of purity.
Of hope.
Of a release from evil.
We all know that this evil, this injustice is not the way the world is supposed to be.
It rips through our souls as we scan the internet, flip through the news, and we find ourselves begging for there to be a twinge of hope that our generation will finally make this place better.
We are quick to recognize it in others. In people in far-off places, in high-standing buildings, in dark alleys. It becomes easy to point and make that evil worse than our own.
Our hearts were no less ill-intentioned.
Unrest.
We could not rest, so we lashed out at others. Pointing fingers in desperation and anger. Yet, unable to silence the throbbing in our soul, the raw realization that we too can do no good.
And yet He wanted us. He wanted me.
That evil-drenched reality did not shake Him.
Instead He redeemed it. That evil, that reality, became a tool for His glory.
Someday, O Lord, this unrest, will all disappear and will become a place for your glory.
And we will rest.
Unrest.
An inability to rest.
I have struggled over where I stand on these issues. Specifically the Occupy movement. The more I know, the more I understand about the government and economy, the less I am at ease. I begin to understand that there is more going on than my optimistic mind likes to think. The more I beg for Christ to come. These outcries may be legitimate, a desire for hope, a desire for pure motives and actions. But humanity cannot. Cannot be pure. Cannot be good in motive. Even within these good-intentioned protests, we find violence and sin, rape and murder.
Perhaps what we cry out for is in fact, the existence of good.
Of purity.
Of hope.
Of a release from evil.
We all know that this evil, this injustice is not the way the world is supposed to be.
It rips through our souls as we scan the internet, flip through the news, and we find ourselves begging for there to be a twinge of hope that our generation will finally make this place better.
We are quick to recognize it in others. In people in far-off places, in high-standing buildings, in dark alleys. It becomes easy to point and make that evil worse than our own.
Our hearts were no less ill-intentioned.
Unrest.
We could not rest, so we lashed out at others. Pointing fingers in desperation and anger. Yet, unable to silence the throbbing in our soul, the raw realization that we too can do no good.
And yet He wanted us. He wanted me.
That evil-drenched reality did not shake Him.
Instead He redeemed it. That evil, that reality, became a tool for His glory.
Someday, O Lord, this unrest, will all disappear and will become a place for your glory.
And we will rest.
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