Where Are We, Lord?

"Where are You, Lord?"
A question I think many of us have asked at one point in time.
Probably more often than once.
Perhaps a question that came up in the last number of days.

The events at Virginia Tech this past week have hit me in a lot of different ways; a few that I'll keep to myself, but a few that I think are worth sharing.

I was reading in Luke today - the story where Jesus drives out Legion into the herd of pigs and they run off the cliff and die.

We hear in the news that the shooter had a history of mental illness and police had been called because of unsettling encounters others had with him in the past. And I can't help but think about how quick we are to want to throw blame at someone and ask why people didn't respond differently to the "warning signs." His professor described him as "extraordinarily lonely - the loneliest person I have ever met in my life."

My question instead, is, "Where are we, Lord?"

When I read the story of the man who had Legion living in him, we are told that the man had gone crazy, we also read that he was tied up in chains.
I wonder where we were.
Did he have family who visited him in the hillside tombs where he lived?
Did he have friends that checked in on him every few days to see how he was doing?
Were their people in his life that continued to love him even though Legion often took total control of him?

What happened in Virginia this week was horrific.
Don't get me wrong.
I can't imagine,
and don't even want to,
what it was like to be held at gunpoint
or to block a doorway to save the lives of my students
or to try to escape, only to find the doors chained shut.
I can't imagine what it would take to walk back into those buildings
to go back to class and not be afraid that it will happen again.
I can't imagine losing a friend or sibling in circumstances like this.

But I think we're missing a piece.

I'm not saying that reporting this man to police on prior occasions was wrong.
I'm not saying that professor who saw the signs and tried to raise flags and spent one on one time tutoring him didn't do her best...because I really think she did.

But it spurred me to ask what Jesus would have done.
And then to ask what difference it makes that I am called to be like Him.

Jesus greets the demon possessed man.
In fact, He greets the demon.

The townspeople had locked him up.
"We" called the police.
"We" let him be the "loner".
Did "we" also love him?
Did "we" let him know that he was a valued person, created in the image of God?

Did the man who suffered from mental illness,
the man whose family "never could have envisioned that he was capable of so much violence,"
the man who was described as quiet, withdrawn, "the question mark kid",
a man who was obviously hurting,
did he have friends who checked in on him?
Did he have people in his life who knew how much he hurt?
What made him feel so incredibly lost and alone?
What a miserable and sad life he endured if it brought him to a point of feeling like killing those around him and finally killing himself was the only way.

I'm not trying to blame anyone.
Or take the responsibility of what happened away from the man who has left many hurting people behind.

What I really hope and pray
is that instead of turning around
and telling his family that their apology means nothing
instead of second guessing his peers,
the police,
the higher ups at the university,
let's recognize that we live in a broken world.
Let's recognize the hurt that he felt.
Let's recognize that there are people who tried to reach out to him.
Let's recognize that Jesus greeted the demon.

And let us pray for his family.
Yes, for the families of the victims.
But for his family, too.
The hurt inside their brother and son
was very probably something that they were helpless to understand.

May they come to know and understand God's grace.
May we be the hands and feet of Jesus.
May they experience God's grace as we extend it to them.
May we live the difference that it makes that we are called to be like Christ.
Who also gave his life for the criminal on the cross beside Him.