Everyone loves a story of redemption. Everyone. The addict who overcame, the failing marriage that turned it around, the person who conquered debt, the homeless family back on their feet, those all make sense. But for as difficult, challenging and near impossible as those circumstances may seem, theyre a cake walk in comparison to real change. I think about Gaza and Israel, the evil being done on both sides, and I have to ask myself what kind of redemption do I believe in? When #Kony2012 was a convenient hashtag everyone was on board and screaming for justice, whether they understood the actual injustice being done or not. The leader of that marketing blitz went a little bonkers from all of the press and just like that, Kony was a memory. But the genocide goes on. And the wristbands were taken off. The voices fell off. A hope for justice was tucked away. Even in the original plight to people there was no thought of redemption, only kill or capture. And so Hamas. And so Israeli soldiers... Kill or capture? Or will anyone look at redemption? I was taking a tour of a rental space once when the guide asked me about my last name. Its Palestinian, I said. Oh... He said, going quiet with his eyes to the ground. From what part? he asked timidly. My family is from Deir Yassin. His eyes got big and his mouth fell open. Do you know what that means? He asked. Yes, sir, I do. And he walked away. He was gone for several minutes while I continued to walk around and not think much of it. Lots of people have heard of the slaughter in #DeirYassin, and he was certainly old enough to have known that period in history. When he came back, I was done walking around and I was thinking more about renting a space than redemption, but a rental agreement isnt what happened. Instead, he fell at my feet. This man had been an Israeli soldier as a teenager. He had seen and done acts of violence that had never left him. He had wounded my people and he was at my feet in tears asking for forgiveness. Im 33 years old. My father was a newborn when Deir Yassin was slaughtered. I am alive by the skin of my teeth, thanks to the decision of my grand parents and great-grandparents, but my people is in quotes because I really didnt know my dad. Im a pretty apple pie American. But my family... So this man, weeping at my feet, I cant say I really grasped that moment until today. I understood he needed forgiveness. I understood he wanted to touch something he thought he had destroyed. I understood that there was redemption to be had in giving this man grace that wasnt really mine to give and regardless of what he had done, he was sorry. He had wounds from the wounds he had inflicted. So I forgave him. Had any of this really registered with me, I might have thought to stay in contact with him, but I was young, and the Middle East conflict seemed (and still often does seem) beyond my comprehension. Friends, I only share this because I know theres more hope than were all posting about. Videos of dead children and anger over something so few of us truly understand is not hope. Its another Kony 2012 wristband. What Im asking is just to be aware. Let this fire inside be a sustainable one, where we continue to ask questions and present ideas and run from finger pointing and biased accusations. Were living in a moment where there is an opportunity for resolution, and God willing, redemption. But not if whats happening over there breaks us down here or in our own governments. Or pits friend against friend. I want to see a land and a people restored. I want to know that in my life time such crimes against man can end. I believe in the power of #forgiveness. And I believe the hardest work is ahead. Bombs are easy. Its patience, persistence, compromise and a heart for reconciliation that take work. Were better than this moment. We all have that kind of redemption in us. We all have access to that kind of forgiveness.
Posted on: Tue, 22 Jul 2014 16:41:55 +0000
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