Murder

The eye witness said you couldn’t tell walking past him. There was nothing about his appearance that would make a person think twice. She did not consider for a second what might be in his heart. But, later in the evening, he surprised everyone with the darkness of his intentions. Murder. Saboteur of terror. Saboteur hidden in their midst using weapons and fear to overwhelm, to overcome, to overtake. I consider as I walk to the coffee shop this morning, hugging my coat closer against the chill in the November air, what I’m concealing under my coat. What am I capable of that would never occur to you just looking at me? I know that the Jesus who said, “Don’t murder!” is the same Jesus who would explain that calling down another, harbouring grudges, belittling others - it’s all murder. There might not be blood on my hands, but there is murder in my heart, too. And so I’m tempted to despair. If I’m as evil as ISIS then there is no hope at all. But my shoes are propelled by the good news that has captured me. The story for me doesn’t end there. There might not be blood on my hands, but there’s blood over my heart; it’s purifying and making me righteous in His sight. Making me holy. So what am I concealing under my coat? What is there in my evil heart made pure? Sabotage. There’s sabotage in my heart, too. There’s a gentle voice of hope that his blood is enough to overcome the darkness, to overtake the pain, to overwhelm the despair. What if as Christians we could look up over the brim of our red Starbucks cups, letting go of the murder in our hearts over the blatant disregard for Christmas thereupon, and engage in the Messiah’s plan to infiltrate a heart, a city, a nation, a world with something that no power of darkness and hell could ever overcome? (We know because we’ve read the end of the story!) What is as Christians we could engage with as much passion and commitment as the lost souls of ISIS to bring the good news we so often forget is not just for us? The good news we all too often just plain forget? What if we entered every theatre, every restaurant, every place we go with weapons of hope? Of love? Of joy? What if when those around us least expected it we were to unleash the power of heaven to accept, to welcome, to heal, to love, to encourage? What if we too would be found willing to lay down our lives (our agendas, our hopes, our plans) to bring a message that tells the world about the glory, mercy and beneficence of our God? What if when it was done we could be found nowhere and him everywhere in us? Calling all saboteurs in this hour of darkness to be people of light.