Bombs at the Boston Marathon. I was at a loss.
It has taken me a few days to decide what I really feel and what I really want to say.
First I felt angry and wanted to rant. I wanted to write pages on how I hoped and prayed that God's justice would be swift and heavy. I wanted to see God come out with some Old Testament style vengeance and fast. But then I remembered my Romans.
Then I was sad and wanted to pout my heart out. I was broken when I heard that an 8 year old boy was the first to die. I'm expecting my first child in June, and my wife has often encouraged me in my running by saying how fun it will be to race with my child cheering me on. The image of that dream was shatter with one headline.
Then I started to read things from writers much better than myself. Writers like Donald Miller who wrote this post about the goodness of all people. That gave me some much needed Godly perspective.
Then I saw cartoons like this one, reminding me how Americans have a history of stepping over old differences and pulling together during rough times. That made me feel proud of where I come from.
Image Credit: cartoonist Bill Bramhall of Daily News
So, what am I feeling now? A strong sense of conviction. About what exactly?
That this is another example of how much this world needs a God who begs us to love one another.
That there will be more good than bad that comes from this when it's all said and done.
That we will never really know why all this happened and that we don't need to know, because this is not our world.
I am convicted that whoever did this picked on the wrong country, the wrong city and certainly the wrong sport.
I am convicted that Boston and its wonderful marathon will rise up from this.
Above all, I am convicted that God would want us to go on loving each other, running until our legs can't carry us any father, and doing whatever we can to promote a world where nobody would ever want to do something like this again.