Yesterday I had to acknowledge that I didn’t have the words. I don’t know how to speak into the chaos of violence and death before us with any measure of helpfulness. Likely I cannot.
Tuesday night I began to see the reactions of my friends.
Mad. Furious. Distraught. Distrusting. Apathetic. Vengeful. Frightened. Anxious. Detached.
All of them were true. And all of them were me too.
“I’m sorry” seems trite. It seems empty. It is hollow. Perhaps because it’s heard so often and nothing has changed. And yet we keep saying it. I keep saying it.
In an already crazy moment in history the unthinkable just seems to pile on the suffering. Life matters. You know it. I know it. Life matters. “I’m sorry” is such a frail sentiment.
The fragility of our apparent sorrow is matched only by the louder outcry of inaction, indifference, and apathy. Love requires action. It requires response. Instead, we keep living like some lives matter more. Hear me please. Life matters. Every. Single. One.
Last week I sat in a waiting room as my car was being fixed. There were two other people in the small room. One was an elderly lady. The other a young woman. Out of the blue, the older lady said something. What she said probably seemed perfectly normal to her. I am convinced nothing about her life taught her to consider the weight of the statement.
“They sure are making a big deal about that little colored boy.”
Wait. What?
Before I even had a chance to gather any thoughts at all the young woman in the room burst forth in a torrent of emotion. Her tirade was one born of collective pain, generational outrage, and the plied truths of multifaceted racial injustice. It blew in hot and haggard. It erupted. It scorched and raged. Until her anger played out and she ran from the room an emotional wreck.
I sat there speechless. I’m supposed to have the answers. I’m supposed to interject kindness and help people who need help. It’s the focus of my life to try and make everyday a little better for everyone I meet. I failed.
My how I failed. But we are all failing. We will continue to fail. Until we each believe and act. Act as though every life matters. Life matters!
The innocent matter. The guilty matter. All life matters.
Growing up we used to sing “Red, yellow, black, and white. They are precious in His sight.” I believed it then. I believe it still, but belief needs more than acknowledgement.
We just spent two full months locking ourselves in our homes. Why? Because we believe old folks matter. We believe sick people matter.
Theaters are closed. Your health club may only now be reopening. Why? Because that’s what’s we collectively agreed needed to be done for a group of lives we all decided matter.
But all lives matter. Every life matters.
The old matter. The sick matter.
You didn’t go to your friends wedding two weeks ago. Why? Because you believe their new life together is worth protecting.
Married lives matter. All life matters.
You canceled your dream vacation. You didn’t see your parents for weeks. Why? Their life matters.
Your neighbor had a baby and you stayed home instead of taking them a meal. Why? That precious life matters.
You prayed in the parking lot at the local hospital. You showed your support to the diner down the street. You had a parade for the graduates, the teachers, and the first responders. Why? Their lives matter.
You’ve been screaming about the President’s wall for four years. Why? Because American lives matter.
You’ve been screaming about the suffering people at the border. Why? Because displaced lives matter.
You were outraged by what you saw on TV. Why? Because you know life matters. They ALL matter.
You don’t get to decide which life matters more. They all matter. Born and unborn. Black and white. American and immigrant. Red. Blue. Left. Right. Christian. Muslim.
You don’t get to cherry pick the sanctity of human life and claim superiority. All lives matter.
Until life is seen as sacred we will continue to defile it under the weight of our selfish prejudices. And it will buckle. It will reel. It will suffocate. It will end.