Lately I've been doing a lot of interviews about Kiss, the novel Ted Dekker and I co-authored. Yesterday someone asked why Kiss keeps coming back to the theme of pain and the importance of remembering pain. If you've read any of my numerous online interviews, you'll have "heard" me say repeatedly that we remember pain not to wallow in it, but to commemorate our deliverance from it, whether that be physical, emotional, spiritual, or otherwise.
This morning in my car, I was listening to radio coverage of President Obama's inauguration. The announcer mentioned almost in passing that members of the King family--the children of Martin Luther King, Jr.--were being escorted to their seats. That simple observation, almost inconsequential in the context of everything else being discussed today, brought me to tears.
Maybe it doesn't take much to bring me to tears these days. But here's what I was thinking: The particular suffering that family has experienced is beyond my comprehension. (I'm a privileged white girl whose father is still wonderfully alive.) I wondered what this particular day would mean to them if they did not carry with them all the pain of their history. Would the election of Barack Obama be as sweet? Would they feel as much optimism for our country, or as much hope?
What would this day be like, if we all abandoned the pain of our pasts? I'd be interested to hear you speculate.