On Boston

On Boston

This past Monday, something unimaginable happened. Bombs exploded at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I knew several people who were running, but was not watching it on line like I do Kona. I had a busy day and had just got back from running several errands. I fixed myself some lunch and turned on the TV to watch some DVR’d shows. But what was on the screen I didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. As what I was seeing caught up to what I was hearing, I started to cry uncontrollably. They played the tape over and over again and I still couldn’t understand…my brain could not wrap itself around what was happening. I pulled my lap top from the office, lunch forgotten, and tried to search for my friends. Were they safe? Thank God for FB because one by one they posted that they were okay. Prayer requests poured in for their friends who had gotten hurt; people were frantically searching for their loved ones. The Hoyts (teamhoyt.com) were running their 31^st Boston Marathon and the four hour mark is when they normally finish. Where were they? Their FB page was full of people pleading for info on their whereabouts and safety. Finally it was posted that they had been near the 25 mile mark when the bombs went off and were safe.

As the coverage continued and the injuries explained my mind became numb. I knew instinctively that it wasn’t the same terrorists as 9/11. I knew they were young and from here…they had to be. No one but people from either the running community and/or Boston knows the significance of that day; of that race. It was specific, what they did. It was intentional. It was cruel. I know that sounds like I am stating the obvious, but the way it felt was personal. To me, to everyone. More so than Newtown or Aurora, because they targeted everyone.

And maybe I feel it is personal because this is my community. My peeps. I am a runner. I run…injured back notwithstanding. I race. I’ve done 5k’s, 10k’s and a few ½ marathons and I’ve spectated at just as many. The running (and triathlon) communities are simply the most positive, encouraging, fun, open, accepting communities out there. Everyone is happy on race day; everyone is smiling; everyone is cheering on strangers. Even if you have a bad race or get injured or bonk, there are people there to build you up, cheer you up, and support you. People cheer you in whether you are first or last. And as Boston is the mecca, well, it just cut me to the core. Those bastards.

As the investigation got going I just didn’t want to hear about the people responsible. I thought it was one guy, young, as I said. Once they announced that it was two, I understood that and just hoped the media would not name them, would not tell us all about them, not plaster their high school year book photos for all of us to see. Then they released the video of them walking with the bombs on their backs and it just made my heart hurt. And the questions just popped into my head…what happened to you two to make you hate your fellow man so much that you’d lay a bag at their feet to explode? They were so young…and everyone had such nice things to say about them. Which makes it harder somehow. And eerie, as reports that the younger brother went back to school as if nothing had happened and that the older had a wife and young daughter.  

The answer to the whys, for me, is always the same; we live in a fallen world and in a fallen world, until Jesus comes again, evil exists, reigns even. We are a people that kill each other. If we feel hurt, or forgotten, or tossed aside, as our culture loves to do, or people disagree with our point of view, we let our anger build, we focus on ourselves, and in our hurt and anger, we take it out on the people who we perceive as hurting us. Cain killed Abel because he was jealous of God’s praise to his brother and God’s rebuke to him. Why did these two brothers turn their hate on the people of their own community? Only the coming days will tell us that…but quite frankly, I don’t care.

Because there are a million other ways they could have handled their anger, disillusionment, or self-loathing. A million other ways to share their point of view. I don’t believe there is any good explanation or justification. Bad childhood? Wah. Ignored by people? Welcome to planet Earth. People don’t like your point of view? Try being a Christian. Led astray by some subversive terrorist group? Yawn. It’s almost a cliché now isn’t it? And knowing why won’t un-shatter the lives of those lost, maimed and injured. It won’t undo that they brought their stupid violence into an event that has been around for over a hundred years. Into an event that celebrates the wonderful spirit of human competition from world class runners to the weekend warrior who busts his or her respective butt to train and push themselves to qualify. It won't undo that we now live in a world where people bomb sporting events.

I know a lot has been said about the city of Boston and the wonderful, heroic people who rushed to the fallen, seeing things no one should ever have to see, in their eagerness to help. My words fall short in my admiration for these people. What I feel for what they did cannot be expressed adequately. There is no way to honor them properly, but my heart swells to a fullness I can’t describe when I think of what they did. And the fallen and injured themselves. The little boy who died and his sister and mother both gravely injured; the two brothers, who each lost a leg. A newlywed couple, each losing a leg. The one man who lost both legs but was able to help identify the suspects. Such bravery. Such heroism. Such an example of that human spirit that no bomb can ever, ever shatter. The Yankees playing ‘Sweet Caroline’; Chicago posting in their paper that they were the Chicago Red Sox, Chicago Bruins, Chicago Patriots, etc. Beautiful examples of ways to love each other. Simple really.

Now that one is dead and the other captured and apparently fighting for his life in a hospital, their crime will become a footnote. It has already faded, not because it is insignificant, but because the goodness of people has already out shone their violence. The police, FBI, AFT, and all the other agencies swooped down and made a statement that no one that does wrong will prevail. The crowds that lined the streets to cheer on law enforcement after the capture was unprecedented. And they deserved every, single, cheer.

As I looked at pictures of the day, Farther Along by Josh Garrels came on my IPod and his words and the haunting music brought fresh tears. It’s posted below…his words are true. In this fallen world…”I wonder why, the good man dies, the bad man thrives, and Jesus cries because He loves them both.” It is hard to understand and make sense of this stuff and I do try and look for the miracles, but the idea that my Saviour grieves for those two bombers humbles me and again takes me to a fullness of heart that has no words.