MY FIELD

I'm very tense today. I don't think it's specifically tiredness. It could be the state of the world, or perhaps a sense of horrific despair that's tightening my muscles. But I don't really want to get into all of that.

For one thing, there's so much noise - the complexity of racism and anti-racism; lack of comprehension, historical and cultural narratives that are tough to understand unless you've lived it; empathy, woke-generated empathy, perception of woke-generated empathy, and then the collective reaction to it all. It's hard to compute what to say, or how to feel, or what to say and how to feel about not knowing what to say or how to feel. Out come the memes about not staying silent. Out come the memes about people saying too much. Out comes the guilt. Out comes the fury. Meanwhile America burns.

And then President Business appears holding a Bible upside-down in front of a church - a church that's just been cleared of peaceful protestors and medical aid workers by rubber bullets and tear gas, so that he could have his photo opportunity. It's all very apocalyptic - like something out of Left Behind. The Bible - used as a political weapon by a man who probably doesn't know much about what's inside. He could do worse than read it.

I say that carefully. I don't want to judge, and I (as I hope countless American Evangelicals do too) don't wish to be deceived. But it's way too complex a field for me.

What's more my field, is sitting in the park with a Bible of my own, wondering why the Moon takes a U-shaped trajectory over the trees. My field is memorising the Psalms and looking at the big daisies and wondering where all the little ones went. It's thinking about the dog who brought me a tennis ball, dropped it at my feet and then looked at me with sad eyes when I didn't pick it up and throw it.

"He does that to everyone," said the lady walking over, "Except me."

I laughed.

"It's not funny really," she said. I stopped laughing, abruptly. She came to scoop up the tennis ball while the dog switched focus between me, and her, and the ball scooper.

"Sorry to get so close," she said.

"That's okay," I said, suddenly remembering that despite it all, we're still in a pandemic. It probably wasn't okay though. Ah well. She lobbed the ball into the long grass and the dog bounded after it, tail wagging in the sunset.

I looked up at the Moon: bright and hopeful against the evening sky. We're all responsible for how we react to the world. I can't allow my fury to obscure my kindness. I can't allow my indignation to cloud my respect. I can't allow my tears to stop the flow of my joy. And all of that's down to me. That, if anything is my only field.