The video images from the L.A. airport are just plain disturbing.
A human stampede of terrified passengers, fleeing a gunman on the loose in the terminal.
This time it was an airport. Who knows where it will be next time. These explosions of violence have happened in a theater . . . a mall . . . an office . . . a school . . . a church.
The bullets may start flying anyplace. Leaving behind lost and shattered lives.
And you can be pretty sure the person pulling the trigger is an angry man. Whose anger - often hidden from those who know him - one day erupts like a volcano. Destroying whatever's in its path.
My sense is that there are a lot of angry people around us these days. Seething inside. Sinking into a darker - and more dangerous - place each day. You see it surface as road rage. Angry parents at their kids' games. Frustrated shoppers. Parents roughing up a kid who's acting up in public. Bullies at school and on the Internet - creating anger in their victims.
Usually, behind anger is pain. Angry people feel wounded . . . wronged . . . unnoticed . . . unheard . . . victimized. And taking it out on whoever inadvertently pushes their buttons.
Many times there are, in fact, things in their past that have left them broken inside. But never with an excuse to wound or do violence to someone else because of it.
I suppose, at one time or another, we are each the angry person. No, not on a rampage to end lives. But angry enough to inflict some serious damage on people around us. Most often, some of the folks we love most.
Mount St. Helens in Washington used to be considerably higher. Until she literally blew her top in an eruption one day. The eruption didn't take long. The damage is there forever.
That's what happens when we erupt. The blast doesn't last long. But what's lost may never be recovered.
Underlying a lot of our explosive moments is this full glass thing. If I pour water into a half-empty glass, it will take quite a bit to make it spill. But if I'm going through life with a glass that's already full, it only takes a drop to make it spill. And there are plenty of "drops" in a day's time - aggravations, conflict, difficulties.
And with the spill comes the lashing out. Usually the violence is the verbal kind. The world's best-selling book, the Bible, describes it as "reckless words (that) pierce like a sword."
I can sure remember reckless words that pierced me like a sword. Sadly, I'm afraid people I care about carry similar wounds from my reckless words. Long after the "wounder" has forgotten, the "wounded" carries the scars of that anger.
Part of the problem is that some of us were raised to stuff our emotions. Don't deal with them, don't show them. And that's what fills up the glass. The time bomb's going to keep ticking until we make room in that glass.
Which means taking a bold healing step. Facing the pain we've stuffed in our closet. It's the match that keeps lighting the fuse of our anger. And leaving a trail of burn victims in our wake.
It may mean walking through the pain with a counselor. Or digging deep into spiritual resources for the most liberating step a wounded person can take - forgiving. And even seeking forgiveness from those who've been the victim of my anger.
Maybe the kids are right. There actually is a monster in the closet. A wounded monster. An angry monster. Who needs to be dragged out into the light.
So the healing can begin.
Ironically, it is often the "monsters" we can't control that drive us to a greater power. Someone who's repeatedly proven that He can subdue the dark forces that control us.
It's my dark side that drives me to Jesus.
When He was on earth, He encountered a man in the grip of forces so dark that authorities chained him to control him. "But he tore the chains apart . . . No one was strong enough to subdue him." No one, that is, except Jesus. Who expelled the "evil spirit." Locals were stunned to find the man now "sitting at Jesus' feet . . . in his right mind" (Luke 8).
Jesus is still doing miracles like that. Fixing what's broken inside us. Transforming what's evil inside us. Bringing hope to us and those we've wounded again and again.
The victory over our darkness came at a high price. Not to us, but to Jesus. He battled and beat our sin when He died on the cross for us. "He loves us and has freed us from our sins by His blood" (Revelation 1:5). So now - and here's where my hallelujahs kick in - "Sin shall not be your master" (Romans 6:14).
I can dare to drag my "monsters" out of the closet and into the light. Because the Jesus who conquered death with His Resurrection is with me to set me free.
And bring peace where once there was an angry storm.
