Work in the gun violence movement can be a series of starts and stops. Times of exciting momentum and stretches of what can seem like standing still. GVP activists often say that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Trite? oh, but it is true. And yet, it’s life and death. Every single day.
Tomorrow morning, an initiative will be announced. Right here in Ohio. I’ve been asked to be a part of it. It was an invitation I absolutely completely passionately could NOT have said no to. Yes, of course, I’m in.
I’ll admit to a few jitters, but I have my brief remarks prepared. I’m ready, and most certainly I’m not alone. Others with greater skills than mine will be there. Prayers are appreciated — I’m praying my own and would love to feel some of yours.
In the meantime, here are some words from poet, Carl Sandburg, written decades ago, but inspiring me tonight to get out there and do something about it:
Here is a revolver.
It has an amazing language all its own.
It delivers unmistakable ultimatums.
It is the last word.
A simple, little human forefinger can tell a terrible story with it.
Hunger, fear, revenge, robbery hide behind it.
It is the claw of the jungle made quick and powerful.
it is the club of the savage turned to magnificent precision.
it is more rapid than any judge or court of law.
It is less subtle and treacherous than any one lawyer or ten.
When it has spoken, the case can not be appealed to the supreme court, nor any mandamus nor any injunction nor any stay of execution in and interfere with the original purpose.
And nothing in human philosophy persists more strangely than the old belief that God is always on the side of those who have the most revolvers.
May God be with all who do this important work. It’s not always poetic nor does it move at lightning speed. But it is the work of many of us all the same.
A Pastor. Parent. Activist.