A Split Soul

Today I walked up Kennesaw Mountain, where the Confederate Army dug in to protect Atlanta from the advancing Union troops. They lost and the Union Army left a swath of burning and pillaging in their wake.

I was born in Kentucky, a border state. Kentucky was a slave state, a fact of which I'm not proud. But when the war came, we made the right choice. Yet that choice split families as brothers signed up for differing sides of the conflict. Imagine the parents' anguish.

I now live in Cincinnati, and our family never really claims the state of Ohio, living in the corner as we do, but I'm proud of many things about my adopted city. Yet being a pseudo-Southerner is like having a split personality. Living with guilt, yet pride in the positives about the South, like the warm hospitality.

I'm grateful the Civil War ended slavery. But when I'm in the south, noting evidence of the battles, it hurts my soul. It hurts my soul to see injustice fixed only by violence.  And it's still going on today, in the Middle East, Ukraine, other parts of the world. I'm glad we are once again the "United" States, but justice still struggles, as we sure haven't outgrown racism and its side effects. As we continue to attempt to solve injustice with violence, sometimes it's hard to say which is worse, injustice, or the remedy. 

Humans lose more than just lives to violence, we lose respect and trust. And yet so often, as in the days of Lincoln, hard choices have to be made. I'm glad I don't have to make this kind of decision. I want to be careful not to judge those who must. The Bible tells us to pray for our leaders, let us do so instead of judging their choices. And may God clearly lead them.