I can't even imagine the reality of something so awful. I have quite the active imagination, so I can hear people screaming, see them running, feel the blood as they pass by. But despite being able to picture these things, they are not real to me. My mind cannot comprehend the terror. My body cannot force the adrenaline.
I see lights going out as people die. Not just people--children, babies.
What possesses a man? It wasn't passion. It wasn't a suicidal mission. It was calculated, cold, premeditated. What kind of monster must you be to point and aim at a child while you are safe behind a bullet proof vest and a gas mask and pull the trigger? From where has this demon come?
My heart is so burdened and torn right now. I am burdened for those whom have been affected by this tragedy. I am torn between Godly compassion and blind rage and hatred...
Originally, I set out to type this post and ask for forgiveness later. I was going to type cruel, unforgiving, bitter, vengeful words. I was going to wish no mercy on this man's soul. I was going to damn him and never apologize for it, never look back. After all, the monster deserves it.
But as soon as I put my fingers to the keys, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And so I think I hate myself more than anyone or anything right now. God knows I want to hate this man. I want to scream out at him. I want to kill him for being so merciless, so sadistic. And given the opportunity I sincerely don't know that I wouldn't. No one really knows what they would do in a situation of that nature til it presents itself to them. I pray the grace of God over any situation like that.
I think I'm just struggling to understand. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isa. 55:8-9) I'm not validating this or explaining this via an unseen, omnipotent god. I'm not saying God's hand was in this, but I'm also not saying God was removed from this, that He simply turned His head.
I am saying I do not know where He was. It is moments like this where I could honestly not explain to people why things like this happen because I know not myself. I have experienced too much of God to believe that He is indifferent or cruel. I have met with Him too intimately to believe this was His doing.
I do, however, remember something from long ago, something awful. I remember for the longest time believing in an indifferent god. I believed if this god cared at all, he would have stopped it, he would have changed it. The more I have reflected on it, the more it has healed, however, I have come to realize it was no act of God. It was Man.
I don't know how much of free will I believe because of predestination and all that. It's all a circular argument that I don't always believe is worth having. However, I believe that to stay a man's hand... to keep him riveted to a spot because it is within your power is also removing from the equation that which God set out to give us from the very beginning--free will. He gave us Choice.
I do not believe God didn't stop this man because He couldn't or because He didn't want to. Not that God cares for any "balance" or "rules" in the sense of, "Well, I gave them free will for this long. I might as well just let it keep on going. Can't stop 'em now." I think, honestly, if God chose to renege some people's choice and allowed others to keep theirs on account that they're "good people"... Well, does such a person exist? A cruel word can scar someone as permanently as the death of a loved one. I'm not equating the damage done. I'm simply saying both can be life lasting.
One who has been told their whole life that they will never amount to anything, that they are disgusting, a waste of space, of oxygen, of life may be just as angry at God. They may question why it was never stopped. They may ask why He never stepped in.
These questions will always be asked.
I am not justifying what happened. I do not think I could. I wept for those involved, affected, those whom were broken. I am saying the one to be angry at is not in the proverbial sky. No, He didn't stop it, but we wanted a choice and so a choice was given. We made our choice. Now, this disease is in the marrow of our bones. We are sinful, innately evil. My heart will always default to what is most important for me. Stick me on a desert island with a few other people for a long time with supplies running short and, despite how I hope I would be civil and selfless, I am certain I would become an animal. I would want to survive. Is that evil? Not necessarily. However, this doesn't only come out of us when we are stuck in "desert island" situations. Selfishness ekes from our pores.
James Holmes made his choice. And so I cannot blame God. I question God. I do not think my heart is settled. I am grieved.
It was once said to me, "Monsters come from monstrous backgrounds..."
So. James Holmes, I do not know you and believe me, everything inside me wants to hate you, but I cannot. I pray that God has mercy on you, but that Justice is served. I pray that you find God and you are forced to deal with the monster you are. I can honestly say I do not want you to find peace. I do not want to share God's love with you. I do not want to tell you that He forgives you, that He loves you as much as He loves me. I want to believe that people like you don't get love, don't get grace, don't get salvation. But I know at the end of the day that I have murdered those that I claim to love a thousand times over in my heart. I have made my younger sister feel two inches tall with my words, slicing her off at the knees. I have said, "I love you" to her with the same mouth that has said a million awful things behind her back.
So to be honest, I'm not sure who the worse person is. You or me. I don't think either. I know that God knocked Paul on his ass and called him to ministry. Paul was a murderer. He killed far more people than you did and did it just as calculated and probably a thousand times more gruesome. I have always said there is no such thing as a lost cause. Paul is living proof of that and some days I believe so am I.
So I'm praying for all the people you hurt. I'm praying God brings them peace, that He heals wounds deeper than bullet holes. But I need you to know I'm praying for you, too. I pray that you wake up one day and look in the mirror and see Truth more divine, more tangible than you have ever experienced. That you realize your depravity to the depth it runs and that you then, run to God.
God wasn't selective in those He chose to love, in those He chose to save. And He knows our hearts and still chooses us. So I think I've decided I have no right to hate you because I have done awful things, too. I have turned my head when the weak should have been defended. I have been silent when someone should have spoken up. All this to say, if God can love me and if I can have the gall to ask God to love me despite the injustices I have been a deliverer of, then who am I to deny you the same thing?
I hope you meet Him face to face, James Holmes. And I think whether it's on Judgement Day or in your cell, it is the best thing I can pray for you.
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