When the light doesn’t seem to make a dent in the recesses of the mind anymore where do we run? If fleeing seems like the only viable option to keep insanity at bay, where can we turn? When we realize that our candidates for the most powerful political figure in the world are accurate depictions of our construct of Christ, where can we find forgiveness? When love, peace, justice, hope, tomorrow, equality, sanctity, and wisdom become buzz-words for a culture too absorbed in their reflection too reflect, who would rather tweet a picture of themselves in the mirror wearing a love promoting ironic t-shirt than offer selfless love to the homeless man they crop out of their next Instagram post, where can we find redemption? Are we lost? Have we gone “too far”? Is caring just another brand we can use to promote our ego to a thousand strangers? ‘See! I’m a good person! I have a lesbian friend who has a black girlfriend who just became a pastor…Im open,  I don’t judge, I don’t hate” blah blah blah. If the pendulum swings too far in either direction you’ll always be late…or early. But never on time.

Why do I envy the homeless man I just gave a crumpled $5 too? Why does that act of giving him money not satiate the monster inside me that is clawing at every pin-hole of light? Why does my post #blacklivesmatter not give my heart and brain any respite from fear and anger? Why do apathy and all out rebellion both sound like the best option? Are we this sick? Have we traveled off the path? Or we were never on the path in the first place? Have we always been Midas’s idiot brother? Everything we touch turns to shit.

Cynicism will kill you. So we choose hope. Sometimes blindly. But what else can we do? There is no “we” in self-awareness. The burden of change is on me. I will no longer try and make sense of my radical-muslim brothers that only see taking life as something worth living for. I will no longer try and wrap my brain around the teenage boys who decide that killing their friends and teachers is their Holy cause. I will not try and rationalize away the murders of countless black men and woman by those sworn to serve and protect us. I will not point a finger at anyone. Instead I will focus on the thousands of ways every moment that I am nothing like Christ. I am nothing like love. I am nothing like awareness. I will be still and listen. I will feel and watch, and when the beast is awoken I will set him loose in my own brain and soul, to tear out and destroy every part of me that wants to point to anything else as the problem. I am the problem. We are the problem. Our passive, comfortable, egotistical, white-washed, apathetic, American hearts are the problem. Human suffering is the most valuable commodity to a generation that has figured out how to monetize hate and love. Your t-shirt with a bold phrase eschewing inequality was made by a child slave a million miles away…don’t forget to double-tap.