Dented Saints

 Something just isn’t right. I know you feel it, I feel it too, most folks do if they’re honest about it, but it’s better to keep your head down, bite your tongue, and watch from the sidelines how this thing is going to play out. We wouldn’t want to inadvertently use an acronym, do some basic math, or point to FBI statistics because, you know, that’s racist now. Oops, FBI is an acronym, well, there goes that.

What strikes me as grotesque to the point of feeling physical nausea is how readily the vast majority can ignore events they would have a legitimate grievance over and how completely they embrace twisted narratives if they happen to further a particular agenda. The names that ought to be on everyone’s lips aren’t, while the names of dented saints with blackened halos and broken wings are whispered in reverence.

A three-year-old boy died in Miami Saturday after someone opened fire at a birthday party, but no one will know his name. Sure, his immediate family might, but his name will never be stenciled on streets in large enough fonts as to be seen from space. The same goes for the seven-year-old girl in Chicago whose life was snuffed out by a stray bullet, as well as the little boy who was just sitting on his parents’ porch when he met his fate.

This was just from this past weekend. These were just the stories that tore at my heart. There were four fatal shootings and thirty-two wounded in Chicago alone, so it’s not like misery is in short supply. But rather than confront the real issue, we obfuscate, bloviate, sidestep, and find straw men because the truth, if we were to face it head-on, would hurt.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea, no, I’m not talking about the guns. The state of Illinois has some of the most stringed gun control legislation in the nation, and still, week after week, the bodies keep stacking up like cordwood. It’s happening everywhere, in every city, big and small, and the reason isn’t anything more complicated than godlessness. Yes, I know, it’s always about God with us Bible bangers, but if the hollow heart fits, well, then, murder she wrote and then some.

Let me break this down in shorthand because I hear the kids coming down the stairs. If your philosophical baseline and foundational belief are that the Son of God died to redeem you, that He laid His life down that you might have life, not only do you have higher self-worth, you see greater value in the lives of others around you.

When you assign a higher value to human life, both yours and everyone else’s, you’re less likely to try and snuff said life out. The son of God paid the ultimate price for you. Therefore, even if others don’t see value in you, He does. Because He saw potential, because He saw worth, because He made a priceless investment in you, you strive to live up to that which He saw in you.

I’ve done enough research into those who were ultimately caught and charged for the murder of others to conclude that, generally speaking, they were not regular churchgoers. I have yet to run across the description of a shooter that included, ‘he was a regular attendee of the Sovereign Grace Southern Baptist Missionary Alliance Church.’

So, yes, at the risk of sounding like a Bible banger, it is a godlessness issue, a spiritual problem, and one that stricter laws, more handouts, more police, less police, or no police will not remedy. It is, however, a problem that can be rectified with prayer, intercession, proper parenting, and, yes, more of God in everyday life.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr.