I watched as news crews were attacked, as windows were shattered, and vehicles were lit on fire; I watched as a peaceful city was overtaken by violence and chaos. As fires burned, and tear gas spread, as sirens rang, and voices shouted, I watched. The darkness illuminated a feral, rabid commotion in the streets. I don’t know what finally caused it to end. I don’t know what settled the pandemonium that ran rampant through the city. But thank God it ended. In the smoke choked hours of the morning, the mob disbanded. It seemed as though the aggressors disappeared as they had appeared. And as the sun rose, a new mob rose with it. They took to the broken streets mere hours after the destruction. Armed not with clubs, armed not with tear gas or batons, but with brooms, with hammers, and with a purpose beyond their own interests, hundreds of citizens flooded the streets like water flooding a smoldering fire; bringing a new calm and healing. There was no yelling, there was no conflict, just a mission of restoration in the wake of destruction. Men and women, young and old, black and white, everyone worked in unison to repair the damage done by an angry and violent few. Side by side they worked wherever and however it was needed. The labor was as therapeutic and as unifying as it was solemn. As I walked the crowded streets, I watched as individuals knelt on the concrete to scrub away graffiti; I watched as a family stepped aside to pray with a local police officer; I watched as local business owners opened their doors to provide food and water for the army of volunteers who had come to serve for the good of the community. As I sat on the concrete edge of Rosa Parks Circle, I was comforted by the outpouring of love shown throughout the city, and in the following days I’ve been reminded that “..in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 (NIV)
