What a week. First, the bombing. Three dead, hundreds injured. Then, the chase, riddled with bullets and sparking a city-wide lockdown. Another fatality. And then one suspect dead, and the other apprehended but clinging to life.
Throughout the week, TV would wander into my office, glum in the face and down in her heart. She kept waiting for the week to end, and asked me more than a few times how things like this could happen. And, more importantly, why did they happen?
I told her that the world is broken, which means that it is filled with heartache and needless suffering. It means that we confront deep sorrows without satisfactory explanations as to cause or reason. This is, of course, not the way we were meant to live, and this is not the way the world was supposed to be. But it is what we have for now, and one day all will be made new. All will be made right. God will renew the earth, and bring it back to life. So amidst the madness, there is hope.
I don't think she believed me. And that makes me sad, because ... I put myself in her shoes: and how depressing would it be to live without hope of better things to come? To not know that an all-powerful being IS in control, and He defines love itself, and all goodness flows from Him, and one day, He will exact justice on the world and truly draw order out of moral chaos, breathe life into the dead, hit the restart button and recover and restore the world? Having to live without that hope would be bitter indeed. How do we bring others into the fold, though? I suppose only God can change hearts. May He change hers...and continually change ours.
* * *
In other news, Mr. Squire has officially decided to quit teaching. After four years in the trenches of public schools in inner-city Boston and Brooklyn, he'll be closing the classroom doors and walking away. It makes me sad. It makes me approach God with a voice of both curiosity and concern: What is going on here, Lord? I thought You had called Mr. Squire to this, and not just for a brief season, but for life. Did we hear Your voice wrong? Or are we being disobedient?
More and more, I'm convinced that we are not presently being disobedient by turning away from teaching. This teaching thing has taken such a toll on Mr. Squire, emotionally and physically. He has gotten sick so many times these past four years. And he is a totally different person during the school year, laden with burdens, perpetually exhausted, listless and often difficult to communicate with after a school day. Sometimes I find him at home, just staring into space. It's really sad. And it has been a heavy burden for me to bear as well, because after working my own long day at work, I come home and continue working to bolster his spirits, get him to talk, get him to let out some of his feelings...and it's an uphill battle, every single day. We have covered this decision in so much prayer, and... again, it makes me so sad to think that he will not be teaching anymore, but... I can't imagine that the prior existence was really what God would have called us to.
I'm not sure what lies ahead. That is also scary. What next? Mr. Squire will be entering his third career at the age of 29. I know that's not entirely uncommon in our generation, but the uncertainty is challenging. We continue to pray. If nothing else, all of this has certainly enhanced our prayer life and our overall posture of constantly looking to Jesus for direction.
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