The Pacific

Last night, Rachel and I finished watching the 10th episode of The Pacific, HBO's follow-up to Band of Brothers, the mini-series they did which focused upon the experience of a battalion of the 101st Airborne Division in Europe during WWII.

The Pacific was centered around the experience of two, or maybe three, different individuals in the Marine Corps during WWII. It's hard to say exactly--there were at least three central characters, but the series jumped around so much, from

island to island and person to person, that I never felt much of an attachment to any of the specific individuals.

I can't even say for certain what I was supposed to have learned from this series, what the goal of the producers was. While Band of Brothers certainly left one feeling like there was a noble goal of defeating the Germans and liberating Europe, there was no such impression in The Pacific. Perhaps it was meant to be that way, meant to portray a lack of purpose... I don't know.

What I do know is that it was overly gruesome, and some of those mental images may stick with me for longer than I would like. It forces me to think about some of the things human beings are capable of doing to each other, the violence that wrenches our society apart, touching us all. Do we recognize the cost of violence?

I recently opened a Twitter account, and have been following the local news stations here in Chattanooga. I'm amazed and appalled at the number of stories about local shootings, gun crimes and the like that I see. And it's not just here--in every city in every country around the world, there is violence of some sort, be it in the streets or hidden behind the close

d doors and drawn windows of the home down the street.

As we begin our Lenten journey, I think of Christ, hanging on the cross. A violent act, put on display for all to see. The Savior of the world, another victim of society's violence.

How odd, how strange, that God would use such means to bring about the redemption of all of creation. We see crosses everywhere, and we have tamed them of their violence, and yet, beneath that polished woodgrain, is a history of violence, of countless souls crucified on a cross. It was the cruelest form of death at the time--Romans wouldn't crucify their own citizens, because they didn't want to get their own hands soiled with crucifixion, this dreadful scourge.

And yet the Savior, hung upon the tree to die, does so in order that we might live, and have the abundant life.

As I ponder the Lenten journey, and how easily I push it from my mind, I wonder how these next forty days might be different--I wonder how I might pray with a grateful heart, how I might live in passionate awe at what God has done. Through the violence of the world, God showed true power, true love, and showed us a better way, a higher way, that leads to life, rather than death.

May Christ's church seek to spread this message of peace, this message of life and hope, into our communities, that through our love we might demonstrate that God has defeated the powers of sin and death that seek to hold the world hostage. We have no need to live in fear--we have hope, a better hope, and a love that has conquered all.

Thanks be to God!