Blog
A hug a kiss and a hashtag (Martin Place)
/ December 16, 2014
I’ve been wanting to write something about the Martin Place Siege but haven’t known what.
Feeling grieved and disoriented as I filed reports for international radio and kept monitoring details as they unfolded yesterday, I realised this was the closest and most directly engaged I’d ever had to be with this kind of event; I’m not traditionally a ‘news reporter’, and don’t often have to cover off on situations like this. Everything was new, real, and raw.
Waking this morning, checking Twitter at 6:54 and seeing what unfolded overnight on the 7am news, the tragedy of lost lives, our City’s changed demeanour, and the presence of terror all smacked me in the face; There was so much detail and imagery, faces of distressed and terrified hostages bolting to safety. It was surreal.
Sitting in the studio tonight, preparing elements to later use and insert, I struggled. Tugged at by an uneasiness that flared up the minute I opened my mouth, I attempted to record short voice tracks and would pull back – the lively tone of Nights seemed ill-fitted. Going again I made mention of our Care 4 U line, available to the shocked and grieving …but that felt trite. It wasn’t working. To continue as normal seemed ignorant and dismissive, but overt cautiousness and care seemed insincere. What was wrong with me? None of it was what I wanted to say, but I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I pushed the microphone away from my face and closed my eyes.
There, I felt an ache attached to something entirely different to shocking pictures and affected cities – I was grieved for God.
In the midst of all this His image, intention, and purpose is completely bandied about by the whims of civilians, media, and extremists alike: We are called to rely on Him as we extend our “thoughts and prayers” to the families of the lost and injured, blame Him for the actions of the gunman, discredit Him when things get bloody, and then trust Him for support rebuilding our resolve. We seem like a bipolar nation of confused mixed religions.
Driving home with John Mark McMillan playing on shuffle, I wondered at our conflicted state. Then, in my dimly lit oasis ‘How He Loves’ began to rumble then roar through my speakers. As it hit the chorus tears rolled down my cheeks and my chin quivered – this is what God wants us to know: He LOVES us. Not like your Year 10 crush, He LOVES you. Graciously, madly, deeply, abundantly, He loves you. Everyone of us. Christ loves us, and died for us – even the gunman, who tragically in an ultimate rejection of God, stole hope, ignored sacrificial love, and instilled terror.
This is the God we are invited to emulate. One of unconditional love and sacrifice. One who values every individual and invites all into eternal and immediate relationship with him – regardless of history, race or creed. That’s who I’ll ride with.
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