A Message Within A Message

On April 20, 1999, at a suburban high school in Littleton, Colorado, two armed teenagers started their day with a plan to kill.  In less than an hour, they transformed the halls of this average American high school into a prison of terror, leaving 13 dead and at least 19 others wounded, before ending their tirade by turning their guns on themselves.  The physical damage to life and property was just a fragment of the destruction created that day. Traumatized witnesses, mourning families, frightened friends, an unnerved community, and a hurting nation were all formed at the whim of these teens hands.  As people touched by the tragedy tried to cope with their disturbing reality, they placed mementos on a grassy hill of an adjacent park.  At this site a permanent memorial of the Columbine shootings was erected 7 years later.

I visited the Columbine Memorial today.  The scenic views of Clement Park made an appropriate sanctuary for reflection.  It is clear why loved ones came to this heavenly haven during the midst of their grief and confusion.  Written on the stone faces of the circular monument are brief paragraphs representing each victim – carefully selected words that will forever stand as a tribute to those who senselessly lost their lives.

As a writer, I understand the burden of responsibility that accompanies choosing the “right” words.  While reading each testament, my heart immediately went out to the people who must have penned these depictions.  A parent, a sibling, a friend, or a family member trying to find 5 or 6 sentences to encapsulate the soul of a loved one – to honor a life, communicate a loss, teach a lesson, and create meaning out of a meaningless misfortune.  Some of the authors chose the writings of the deceased themselves, finding all other words inadequate.

However, the reluctant writers who penned these compact memoirs deserve praise.  Each paragraph portrayed a young stranger as if they were an intimate acquaintance.  The remarks left me sentimental and sorrowful, as if it were my own loved one lost.

As I read from one biography to the next – celebrated achievements, personal interests, and truncated dreams – the summaries began to distinctly fall into two categories: those who spoke mainly in the past tense, and those who spoke mainly in the present.  Each one left me with a distinct impression of whether the writer believed their lost loved one lives on – in love, in legacy, or in new life.  Many of the victims held a strong faith, which explains the enduring sense of eternity in their words.  For others, it read as a sense of larger purpose, as if value or merit might be found amidst the tragic.  The rest were simply words of loss.

Isn’t it funny how ordinary words used in an ordinary sentence can expose the deeper things of the heart?  It is as though we communicate in a secondary language – two languages (one visible, one intangible) conveying two separate meanings at the same time.  We wield control over only one.  The other imparts our souls honest cry, revealing motives and convictions beyond what we may readily recognize or admit.

What does my secondary language publicize about me?  When I write or speak, what covert messages is my listener receiving?  My earnest desire is to constantly convey the hope and healing of Jesus Christ, in my sorrows, in my successes, in my service, even in my silence.  May the greater message of His love and purpose be expressed in all I say and do.

Sovereign Lord,
I pray for the hope and healing in each of the families touched by the Columbine incident.  May your light of greater understanding shine in every dark corner of this incomprehensible tragedy.  Although later investigations show the  perpetrators had no specific target in mind, I believe it is more than coincidence that a majority of those slain were believers.  Even in this, your hand was at work.  Do not let the lessons gleaned from these lives be lost or dulled.  But magnify your name in the midst of the aftereffects.  May time further define your larger purpose and may each soul leave this monument with your fingerprints on their heart.  Amen.