Almost too deep to heal

The courses I teach and the work that I do with students inevitably end up dealing with questions of a larger hope, and the difficulty of living in a world that is deeply loved by God (John 3:16), but also *waiting* for redemption in its fullness.  Waiting.  Waiting.  The deep brokenness of the world cannot, can never, be glossed over, and spending time teaching and learning in Eastern Europe this fall has definitely provided no relief from this pattern.  In addition to much more, we are left with images of bullet-ridden walls in Sarajevo; hulking ex-Communist high rises dotting the Romanian landscape; the ruins of Auschwitz's crematoriums on a clear blue day in November; and now new awareness of legislation in Hungary that has made homelessness a crime, instead of an opportunity for mercy.   None of these images look like Christmas; none are easily "fixed."  All of these are reminders in this season that we wait, with the Pevensie kids and all of Narnia, for Christmas to return.  No, it's not Christmas time yet, but Christmas is coming.  Meanwhile, we wait, and its ok to cry while we wait.

Advent thoughts from Over the Rhine's "Little Town":

                   The lamplit streets of Bethlehem
                     We walk now through the night
         
                  There is no peace in Bethlehem                     
                     There is no peace in sight

                  The wounds of generations
                     Almost too deep to heal

                  Scar the timeworn miracle
                    And make it seem surreal

                  The baby in the manger
                     Grew to a man one day

                 And still we try to listen now
                    To what he had to say

                 Put up your swords forever
                    Forgive your enemies

                 Love your neighbor as yourself
                    Let your little children come to me