Monday, March 2, 2015

"I Can't Hate Them"



I can’t hate “them”
I was once “them” too
I still am in many ways
More than I can see

I get upset at what “they” do
I get frustrated that “they” can't see
But I won’t call the idiots
And I won’t call them evil

I’ve done idiotic things
I’ve had evil thoughts, too
I can’t forget what I see
When I look in the mirror

I know “they” aren’t to blame
I see the same corruption in me
I see it in all of us
Just in varying measure

I will speak out about what they do
But I will not insult them
I will not pretend that the same evil
Is somehow unique to “them”

I can’t hate “them”
I’m “them”
You’re “them”
We’re all “them”—

Until we stop saying “them”
And treat each other as “us”
Even our enemies
Treat them as brothers and sisters

Once Creator’s Son came
He broke the us-and-them barrier
We were the “them’s” to heaven
But He became one of us

And He loved us to the end
While we were all His enemies
He told “us” to love the same way
He said to love all the “them’s”

I can’t forget Him
I can’t forget “them”
I can’t forget who I am
I can’t hate “them”

****

I wrote this poem tonight, thinking about...well, I won't say.

The painting was made five days before my heritage was awoken. My poems are beginning to spill over into non-"heritage" areas recently, but this is connected:

There are times you see what was done to your people, or see the way others are treated, and it's easy to think that it's only a "them" problem...

In the Indian context, it's easy to think that all ills came because of colonialism. But as bad as that was, and as much damage as it has done, no, the root is deeper than colonialism. The latter is the outgrowth—the fruit—of bad hearts, which we all have.

It's easy to blame, to hate, to say "them" and forget what I look like in the mirror. By some amazing grace, somehow I remember often and the Spirit really helps me from looking down on others and forgetting the dark things my heart has held. Instead of calling "them" idiots, etc., it just hurts when they do hurtful things. I find that I want to cry instead— not just for the hurt ones, but for those who do the hurting, too. Both victim and victimizer need a Savior.

No comments:

Post a Comment