But I’m also a Christian, and I know that love and forgiveness, grace and respect, compassion and wisdom are far better swords to wield in my daily endeavors. I make the conscious decision to use these gifts over the devil’s twisted workings in my soul. And therein lay the truth of what makes us individuals – our choices.
In every human soul, there is a precious dichotomy; a timeless struggle on a razor’s edge between what makes us evil, and what makes us good.
I choose good.
Most of us do, really. Most of us make a true effort to choose humanely in our daily trials through life.
We stand by our spouses, we respect others; we are honest, caring, and devoted.
Some people are quick studies: they grow to the Light naturally, and serve as trail guides for others (like me), who sometimes lose their footing, or struggle with which path to take next. And then, there are the unfortunate ones. The ones that have supple minds and hearts, and fail to resist the seductions of an evil life.
They are the low hanging fruit within easy reach of the devil’s distortions. They choose poorly.
A poor choice was indeed made yesterday, when someone planted bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. What was a place of sunshine, celebration, and triumph was, within seconds, transformed into a maelstrom of fear, confusion, and tragedy. In the aftermath, we look at the resulting carnage and in our shock we ask why? And to what end? Who would do such a thing?
The answers, for me, are simple:
Why? To terrorize us. To what ends? To kill innocent people. By Whom? An individual who is morally defaced.
Some would say terrorist, but I can't submit to that anymore. It just seems as though “terrorist” is becoming too broad a term – as by definition, anyone seeking to instill terror in others is a terror-ist. My four-year-old would most likely define me as a terrorist. I would define Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh as terrorists. My sister’s cat is definitely a terrorist.
Moreover, in the more mainstream sense of the term, most individuals that are labeled as terrorists are probably proud of the designation. From their perspective, it’s like a coronation or a title – it’s as if the media has awarded them with a blue ribbon for their efforts. Surely, they get some measure of satisfaction from it. Surely, they feel revered for fulfilling the ultimate terrorist goal: gaining absolute captivation and power over an entire nation. Surely, they’re enjoying the achievement of taking away some things (like joy, happiness, camaraderie) from the society they hold a hatred for, and replacing those things with the emotions they want us to feel – fear, terror, hopelessness. To put it to a finer point: they’ve controlled us. We are the ants in the mound they stepped in, and I assure you they are relishing a sense of godliness over us as they watch us scramble to recover.
With that in mind, I can’t help but feel that the people that would commit a crime so horrific as Boston are worse than terrorists. They are profoundly corrupt. Morally defaced. They are lower than vermin, with the animalistic sensibilities to match. They have chosen evil over good in their hearts, and have gone so far into the devil’s twisted lair that they cannot be saved from themselves.
In my heart, I am angry. I want these villains captured and I want them to suffer, violently, and in like fashion as those that they maimed and killed on the sidewalks of Boston. Let them die as horrifically as Martin Richard, who was only 8; make them suffer like his mother who sustained a brain injury or his baby sister, who lost her leg. The terrorist in my soul is leaping for opportunity, rallying for revenge, thirsting for blood! Find them, kill them! Make them pay!
And yet, somehow, I manage to find the Christian in myself. I listen to the guide in my heart that says I would do well to focus my hopes and thoughts to those that need healing and recovery. Despite my anger and fear, I still manage to come back around to love and forgiveness - the choice for good - and I know it is a bane to those morally defaced villans that would want me to feel otherwise. I thank God for faith, for His guidance, for my upbringing; for my parents, for my church, my past teachers and youth counselors, and most importantly, my husband and family… they are my support system, my guides on the path of life. I find I cannot deny their influence on my ability to choose between the halves of my soul.
In doing so, my thoughts land on that person or persons that found themselves amongst guides of a different nature – a wicked, malevolent nature – and they were led astray, pointed down a dark path in life they can never return from. Strangely enough, I find I can spare a prayer for them, too.
Conversely, I feel evermore blessed, knowing that my choices are sound.
The terrorist in me shall always go unquenched.