Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places,

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, the one whom others asked if anything good could come out of Nazareth.

Now, I am wondering, might anything good come out of Nashville?

We’ve heard too many names of individuals and cities falling victim to gun violence, resembling the cadence of a litany too difficult to finish, name after name, day after day, year after year. Almost unbearable . . ., no, it is unbearable, to imagine the pain and loss this lengthening litany represents.

We now include Louisville with yesterday’s shooting at a downtown bank. We already heard our name, Presbyterian, with the most recent Nashville shooting, and now, the city which is home to our national Presbyterian offices is grieving once again.

Then, yesterday, we heard names in a different way. Justin. Not just one, but another. Justin. Not gun victims, thank goodness, but the names of two young black Tennessee state legislators who would not back down in the face of gun violence in our country, even as they were expelled and silenced.

Yet not quite. The two Justins and their colleague Gloria Johnson, have more of a voice than ever before. This is how movements begin, with previously unnamed people in places like Nazareth and Nashville. Away from the center of power.

This burgeoning movement comes not from a bill but with a song. This Little Light of Mine was heard through the hallways when one Justin was reinstated. Not by conventional means of argument and debate. Not because one side finally saw the light of reason or cringed at the power of these weapons of war.

No, this inspired and remarkable moment came when people had finally had enough (oh, why not sooner!), and they are standing up and more are following and they do not seem to be weary or discouraged but hold their eyes firmly, not on death’s tomb, but on the possibility of life and hope and change.

It’s taken too long, way too long, far too long, but might the time be now? Might it come out of Nashville? Two Justins, and a white women named Gloria, and those singing about a little light, and young people joining the chorus, and people across the country who are witnessing this movement and saying it’s finally time.

I might be disappointed again, like so many times before, but I still remember a story told two days ago about new life and hope rising out of death with the promise of transforming the world. Might it be happening in Nashville? Perhaps even here as well?

Grace and peace,
Harry