A Lesson on Choosing: fear, tyranny & the plowshare

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” –Frederick Beuchner

tyrant: an oppressor, absolute ruler

tyranny: a cruel or harsh act

Today, we choose.

Within the decorated but white-washed walls of our two-bedroom apartment, we ask two small boys to trust us, to listen, to let us rule.

And outside, on the streets, we look each other in the eyes– if we’re brave.

We look and listen, if we acknowledge that who we are is a result of who they are- all connected.

And inside the church, at the grocery store, at the corner of Gay & Straight, Muslim & Christian, Happy & Unhappy, Humane or Inhumane– we choose.

Tyrant or Peacemaker.

My Muslim sister chooses peace or hate, just like I do.

And we look into ourselves and realize the bigness we are capable of,

the power given to our tiny human hands.

I stood in my kitchen, and my friend removed her hijab, because she was safe.

And we cooked together there, and I saw the soft wrinkles of her face, her dark black hair pressed against her olive skin.

There, we chose peace.

We are broken people, and my three year old asks what broken means.

“I will tell Jesus that I will help Him save the earth,” He says.

“Yes, baby. Tell him that everyday,” I reply.

Then, we are no longer the tyrants.

Then, we only forge hope,

the plowshare,

the Spirit of peace.

There is goodness in His eyes, and all is called holy.

All is called blessed, all is called chosen,

created,

covered,

believed in,

achieved.

And we choose to look each other in the eyes and we see–

it is you and it is me,

in the fullness of our humanity.

All our saintness and heathen ways, all there, all held, and we are no longer afraid.