Dear Caldwell,
As we all take in the news behind this week’s tragedy in Charleston, I must say I feel a little “out of body” here in Florida as I am in two weeks of intensive classes. By that, I mean I feel separated from you, the body of Christ I serve. But we are still connected by our faith and how it informs our lives, especially in weeks like this one.
My class has spent the week looking closely at Old Testament texts, exploring how to read scriptures that are ancient and, at the same time, living and new. We’ve spent time thinking and unlocking what difficult scriptures have to say to the church today and how scripture speaks to us in difficult times. For a week such as this, Psalm 46 offers these words:
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea …. God makes wars cease to the end of the earth; God breaks the bow, and shatters the spear …. Be still, and know that I am God.
When I see pictures of this week’s shooter and look into his eyes, sometimes I think I see something I might call evil. Certainly a cold and calculating return stare, certainly emptiness and certainly a kind of lost-ness. We will learn more about his state of mind, what influenced him to take the lives of 9 faithful church members, including a remarkable pastoral leader.
What we can say is this week’s tragedy calls us to dwell fully in what has happened and to come to grips with the swirl of factors that should concern us as a people of faith and as those who follow Christ. Those factors include guns and a culture of violence that pervades in America, questions about “lone wolves” and domestic terrorism and place of the church in a cynical and divided culture.
Most important and most urgently, this tragedy is a call to action for us to engage with an even deeper commitment to racial reconciliation. We are called by the lives lost at Emanuel AME church. We are called by its century-long stand for justice and liberation for African-Americans. We are called to find our place in that work, whatever that place may be, for, not only is it unfinished, it is a gaping and open wound in America, for all Americans.
It is not off base to say that the Christians at “Mother Emanuel” church who gave their lives this week to share the gospel died in a Christ-like way. The world crucified Christ two-thousand years ago because it could not accept Christ’s ways of peace, justice and radical love, even forgiveness for enemies. Those who died this week were there to study those ways and they opened their doors and hearts to a stranger, as Christ did.
As you gather for worship and healing Sunday morning, I have no doubt you will do so with an even greater resolve to advance the ways of Christ, the Prince of Peace, under the closing words of Psalm 46, “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.”
In Christ,
John