it was bound to happen sometime--my first exposure to life as a possible pacifist--to one day become the minority in a crowd of patriots cheering for soldiers who fight for freedom (so says our speaker, victoriously, at a leadership conference).
but my minority status is not pure, is not yet whole--for my flesh still clings to what I knew--or believed I knew; my flesh still longs for the crowd, still longs to cheer for soldiers who fight for freedom--my flesh still wants to believe, as it once did, that my men die for purpose, kill for purpose, suffer for purpose--that there exists no innocent enemy-child--that Jesus must not have died for these.
but I can no longer align myself with this, can not believe what this crowd believes, can no longer accept blindness as a means to acceptance. I can not turn my conscience back, can not escape the truth I dared to face. It holds me fiercely.
So instead, I'll stand, hands down.
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