Out, Out -
As I write this, the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk still weighs daily on my mind. I will never be able to erase the footage from my memory. The act was evil. The world is full of evil. What do we do?
The fragility of life is a subject we often avoid discussing - until something like this happens, and we are forced to confront reality. We could be taken from this world at any time; we have a limited number of days on this spinning rock. When we die, there will be a set of numbers on our headstone with a dash in between them, a dash that represents your entire existence on this planet. What are you doing with your dash?
I began to think of my favorite poem, written by Robert Frost, and I’d like to share it with you.
“The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.”
It may seem callous of the boy’s family to resume their normal lives after such a tragedy, but I see this as an act of courage - not of indifference.
I steadfastly believe God has placed each of us on Earth at this point in time for a specific purpose. You could have been born at the time this poem was written, when the world was waging war and struggling to feed starving populations. 1916 was a time of incredible breakthroughs in technology at stark contrast with the poverty of the masses. The war was fought in trenches, with horses alongside tanks, and the introduction of chemical weapons revolutionized battle tactics.
Let us have courage. I am reminded of John 16:33, when Jesus says: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” As a follower of Christ, I believe what is written about the end of time. God will vanquish evildoers for ever - but until then, we must come together, love one another, and help each other fight the wickedness we encounter. How can you be a force for good today? Even the smallest of gestures can make someone’s day better. So, as Frost says, turn to your affairs and defy death. Join me, won’t you?
