Once more social media has become a hive of debate over the last few days, this time over the issue of statues. Some advocating their removal as we as a society no longer uphold things that these statues have come to represent, others arguing they should be kept, a sign of where we’ve come from.
What this boils down to is the place of our history; how we should approach it, and whether we are at risk of rewriting it. However statues themselves are a means of rewriting our history, they’re not neutral things. In building statues or monuments we pull some people and events of our history to the foreground whilst leaving the rest in the background. Furthermore we pull certain aspects of those people and events to the fore whilst overlooking the rest. Monuments to slave traders were built out of gratitude for the perceived good they did with their wealth whilst overlooking where they got that wealth. The statue of Churchill was erected because of his leadership during WWII whilst ignoring the fact that he spent most of the war drunk and held racist views. Statues rewrite history in the way we want to tell it, we flatten people and events into the shape we want to celebrate. Building statues is the very definition of putting people on pedestals, and upon closer scrutiny no-one meets the mark, all are found wanting in some way or another. But the very one who was tried and not found wanting, Jesus Christ, refused to be raised up on a pedestal. He rejected the worldly signs of fame, of being portrayed as the person others wanted him to be. Instead, when he was raised up, it was on a cross, a symbol not of glory, of fame and greatness, but of weakness, shame and death. As humans we will never live up to the mark, and we will always find those to whom we raise statues are in the end found wanting. But through him who was raised up from the earth not on a pedestal but on a cross we are made righteous, our lives not flattened to be pleasing to others or to God, but washed clean of our mess and filled to overflowing with his life and goodness. His light, not our own, shining through the cracks of our broken humanity.
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In the light of recent events and the killing of George Floyd I reflect on what it means to pray Thy Kingdom Come when faced with such atrocities and offer Lament as a first step in praying about such situations.
In the light of recent news about Dominic Cummings travelling during the height of the lockdown there has often been more heat than light in discussions. It's particularly disappointing to see many Christians angrily commenting or posting status' in response.
We're allowed to be angry, we're allowed to be confused and frustrated. But in all the anger and disappointment and frustration of the last few days can I encourage you to do one thing? Pray. No matter who you think is in the wrong, pray for Dominic, for Boris, for the media, for those you disagree with on your Facebook feed. And don't pray what you think they should do, that they'd repent or resign, or soldier on. Pray for their good, for their health and welfare, for their healing, for grace and hope. And above all in this time between Ascension and Pentecost pray that they may come to know for themselves the only one who judges justly, the one who knows the secrets of our hearts and loves us anyway. |
AuthorI was raised in an Anglican Church, went to a Youth Club run by an Evangelical Church and attended a Baptist Church while at Uni and as such my faith has been influenced by these traditions into what I hope is a more rounded viewpoint. Categories
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