This country is messed up.
Before you go any further, let me assure you that this will not be a diatribe against anything conceivably political – the left, the right, the middle of the roaders, the apolitical, whoever you want to name. So please don’t sharpen your pencils or dust off your keyboard to send me your own political leanings and treatises.
That’s not what this is about.
I’m just bemoaning the fact that … we’re in trouble. Period.
Nowadays, right is oft considered wrong (and by “right,” I don’t mean the conservatives). People boast about their sins. Magazines and newspapers write laudatory headlines about things that would make our parents blush. More and more we’re being put in the position of having to choose what we’ll stand for and what will push us over the edge.
Maybe that’s why I dreamed about tornadoes last night. And note the plural usage.
I began dreaming of tornadoes when I was a child. I always blamed it on too many viewings of “The Wizard of Oz,” though I’ve always dearly loved that movie. I consider it my favorite film of all time (along with “Casablanca,” of course). Sister and I got to skip church on Sunday nights the one time a year that Oz came to the small screen.
But in mid-life, I once dreamed of a friendly tornado – and I was free of those nightmares for decades. Until last night.
I don’t know. Maybe the unsettled nature of the country contributed to the swirling vortexes in last night’s dreams. Maybe not. Undoubtedly the country has been unsettled before. Consider:
The bitter politics of the 1790s that led to what some scholars call “The Dark Ages of American Journalism” – notorious for its sensationalism, personal attacks and hyper-partisanship, which significantly influenced public opinion and political dynamics. (Anything sound familiar?)
The Civil War – when the entire country was torn apart. World War II – when the Greatest Generation literally had to save the world. The 1960s – which underwent the biggest social upheaval most of us have seen in our lifetimes. And those devastating three digits – 9-11.
Now, I fear that future generations will be talking about this particular time in our land in not-so-flattering terms. All you have to do is read Facebook comments and other online communication. Sooooo many people seem unable to say anything good about, well, anything. Their insides seem black.
Something’s wrong with our hearts, down deep inside.
Many of us know the answer to this problem, and it begins with J and contains five letters. Or you could use a four-letter word beginning with L and often used with the word “The.” I’m sure you can figure it out.
But most folks won’t accept that reasoning. Even if we try to show them. (But thank God for those who do accept and believe.)
So … what to do in this tumultuous time?
One of my Facebook friends just posted something I’m going to try. She wrote: “Set small triggers to remind you to pray. As you start your car, pray for safety. As you clean the kitchen, give thanks for food.” It’s such a good idea.
She also asked for people to join with her daily at 11 a.m. in the Lord’s Prayer and to pray for general intercession and for our country. That’s a good idea, too. Every believer needs to be praying fervently for America. Pray at 11. Pray at noon. Pray at 2 – in the afternoon and in the morning, if you’re still awake, as I was last night.
In the midst of the turbulence that we’re currently witnessing, we stand at a crossroads. The tempests threaten to pull us apart, yet within this chaos there’s an opportunity. We can choose to be the calm eye in the storm, anchored by faith and guided by love. As we start our cars, may our prayers infuse the air with hope. As we clean our kitchens, let gratitude be our cleansing balm. And at 11 a.m., let our voices rise in unison – a collective plea for healing, unity and grace.
In these troubled days, let us be the change we seek, one whispered prayer at a time.
