In Ferguson, we see a warped curtain of supposed wholeness pulled back, torn in two to reveal a broken community. We see open wounds and revelations of ugly fractures that happened long ago. Fractures that are still happening.<\/span><\/p>\n In Ferguson, women and men allow the Holy Spirit to drive them into the streets night after night, withstanding rubber bullets and snarling dogs and tear gas. They appear to us now as ragged and exhausted as a man hanging on a cross.<\/p>\n How do we make sense of the senseless?<\/p>\n How do we talk about something we should never have to talk about?<\/p>\n In the death of Mike Brown, and in the protests of Ferguson, MO, much has been brought to light.<\/p>\n Death.<\/p>\n Brutality.<\/p>\n Militarization of police.<\/p>\n Racism.<\/p>\n White privilege.<\/p>\n Bigotry.<\/p>\n The de-humanization of an entire community.<\/p>\n Ferguson is America at its worst. Our pain is an impossible project, one that raises questions we cannot solve on our own. Why would a good God permit evil to exist in the world? What, if anything, can we make of these events ? Some kind of an answer only begins to take shape in community, among others who are suffering. Our answers will not emerge from the desks of detached academics, but from the streets, among weeping mothers and grieving sons.<\/p>\n As emptied of hope as things appear, Ferguson is also us at our best.<\/p>\n
I lift up my eyes to the mountains \u2014
where does my help come from?<\/p>\n