A little over 2 years after the most recent water shortage in Austin, I find myself out of work once again and deep in thought at the keyboard. In my newly found free time, I’ve been reading Timothy Keller’s Every Good Endeavor and stumbled upon a timely passage:
“After Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans there was a finite period of time in which the basic news of devastation was reported. Very quickly, the story devolved into attempts to cast blame: on the builders of the sea wall or the federal government and its slow response.”
The same things are happening again. Those in need of resources spend their precious battery life in hopes of finding some source of information of where help can be found — where the warming centers are, what restaurants are open, what roads aren’t hazardous to drive on — only to find dozens of articles from both ends of the political spectrum blaming each other. (And can I just note — the authors writing said articles are likely the ones that haven’t been affected as badly by the cold?)
“Not to say that flaws in city planning or unresponsive government agencies aren’t problems worthy of reporting, but the need to blame some aspect of creation is a human impulse — not a gospel one. The gospel tells us the fall results in brokenness in nature and in people. The real “story” of the gospel is the evidence of redemption and renewal. The stories of sacrifice and perseverance are a more fitting culmination of the gospel narrative than stories of neglect.”
To the fortunate ones who haven’t lost power and are flooding their social media accounts with important resources and hotlines, I thank you. I’m encouraged and blessed by your hearts to serve and help in whatever way you can.
Now, I don’t mean to make little of the dire situation that many are in, with no water and no electricity in their homes. People are struggling and are in life threatening circumstances. People are angry. People are dying.
But as it was 2 years ago, I can’t help but feel a bit jaded and callous. As I scroll through my feed, reading about the (again, genuine and legitimate) struggles, I feel deeply bothered by the sense of entitlement. You might call it a rich man’s problem. People are understandably frustrated and confused and ill-prepared to respond to the sudden lifestyle changes. Boiling snow to have water to flush the toilets, having to unplug unused electronic appliances to conserve energy, and perhaps worst of all, having to use data instead of Wi-Fi to access the internet, oh but wait, what about all the people in the world who don’t have toilets, electricity, or internet on a regular basis? Our toppled thrones built on technology and advancement all of a sudden make us realize we really aren’t better than those “savages”, huh? (I’m looking at you, HEB panic buyers).
Having being born into a privileged family, I do agree with some of the sentiments. Yes, this storm has been very inconvenient. Yes, it feels gross not having showered in a days for the sake of conserving water. Yes, it’s unfamiliar to the “norm” that I’m used to.
But having experienced beforehand what it’s like to be stingy about energy usage (even without a crisis), what’s it’s like to have to boil water every day, what it’s like to live in, say, more unpleasant or restricted conditions as my daily normal, it is so incredibly infuriating to read status after status of culture shock masking disgruntled privilege. You want to know how these “less fortunate” people live in those conditions? It’s by helping each other out and living together as a community.
This is not meant to be a bash on the privileged or on technological advancement that brings about an illusion of self-sufficiency. Nor is it meant to be a guilt-trip for people to start pulling out their wallets to help those in need. And again, I will make it abundantly clear. This storm is no joke. It has caused mass destruction in the community. But as “privileged” as these problems may be, the fact remains that the brokenness we’re seeing lies far deeper than the socioeconomic and physical infrastructure of the places we live.
As for me, I can tell that this frustration I feel isn’t the most godly sentiment. That my own feelings towards all of this are likely hypocritical and tainted with my own pride. And admitting my own shortcomings doesn’t make it okay or justified either, just as how saying “no offense, but” doesn’t make the following clause any less offensive.
But for now, I’d like to set those frustrations aside and look to redemption.
Perhaps this literal freeze is…
Something that will help Texas quarantine and get Covid-19 numbers down for good.
An opportunity to be true neighbors to one another.
A chance for society to be rebuilt for good.
Also a freeze on the distractions that hinder us from pursuing Who’s really important.
What else could you add?
