“How is the gold become dim! how is the most fine gold changed! The stones of the sanctuary are poured out in the top of every street. The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter! Even the sea monsters draw out the breast, they give suck to their young ones: the daughter of my people is become cruel, like the ostriches in the wilderness. The tongue of the sucking child cleaveth to the roof of his mouth for thirst: the young children ask bread, and no man breath it onto them.
Lamentations Chapter 4:1-4
Without a vision the people of the city fail. Existence becomes a daily exercise in survival that repeats itself on itself.
Without true education, the children are left to their own devices. Violence, drugs and gang warfare ensues.
The young and old princes of the land fall short. The people’s children refuse to listen. Their hearts know that the love is not real, that it is not enough. Nothing can save but the present and continuous flow of God’s spirit of love and hope, of faith and kindness all unfeigned.
Where are the shepards? Where have they failed? Where have they brought faith AND works appropriate and commensurate to the strength needed to lift up the hope of the children of Chicago’s impoverished neighborhoods?
The task is monumental, where are the mighty laborers? It is not heard of that a mighty man or woman walks the street stanching the flow of blood. The children are ignorant and wroth. They are fallen. They know not the true God. They have lost the path and know not to find it.
It is our fault. It is the fault of the shepards.
A muted cry is sent across the heart of the land…calling…calling for one, for anyone to stand in between the sadness and the anger, the pain and the brokenheartedness, though they know it not. I sat and waited to see who would go. The time passed. The shepards at hand tried what they could, alas the strength needed for the task has been too strong for them. The people are too many. The ignorance and darkness… too great.
Without a vision the people of the city fail. Existence becomes a daily exercise in survival that repeats itself on itself.
…and what will I do? What can I do? The people are tired. The voices laugh though they have no answers. They each go their own way at the end of the day. They say they are working on it.
Truly, I am just a man and walking in to Chicago’s South Side would be a futile task. I would have no dwelling place. The team work needed would have to be very integrated. The prince of the land would look upon me with a mixture of envy, hesitancy disdain and dismissiveness. In his heart, he would not be for me. So I say, let him rot in his elected chair. Let this fall on him. Let the deaths and the violence continue. He is good for nothing.
I will stay with my children and watch over them. Let the President call on the National Guard and see what happens.
“What is the way forward?, they will ask. “What do you know that we have not tried,?” they will ask in mocking derision. They will say they have experience and credentials, networks and moneys. That they are moving onward and upward….So I will not go.
The proof is in the pudding. The deaths continue.
Think with your mind only. I think with my Christ mind and Christ heart. The strength and team effort needed is epic to overcome the vibration. I will not go. I will not go. Let the shepards exhaust themselves. Let them try every which way to see if they find the way forward for the downtrodden children of the land. Let them give up. Let the years go by and see if they can assuage the downward spiral of humanity. Still I will not go. I am just a man. I have my children to look out for and my own sustenance to provide for.
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