Line Crossed

Today, I participated in a demonstration against the building of a new nuclear weapons plant in Kansas City, Missouri. This was my first protest, and my head is still spinning trying to process everything.

The event itself was carefully and intentionally planned and executed by several individuals and groups. The focus was on a non-violent protest, so no one or thing was insulted, harmed, or damaged. The event began with the holding of signs and conversations. There was then an excellent drama of how nukes are becoming destructive idols in Kansas City. There was a moment of silence as we all lay after “the explosion of a bomb,” and then there was “resurrection” in the hope for transformation in the current destructive and corrupt players and systems responsible for this construction. The passing of peace occurred amongst old friends and new, and inspirational words and testimonies were shared.

People then trespassed on the property blocking the main gate to the construction site. People sang and danced as the police came near. After the first warning, the majority of people crossed back over the defined property line. But 51 people remained committed to risking arrest. After several other warnings, police began to follow through with their threats. Their lack of initial transportation for all of these people illustrated their underestimation of the commitment to stand against the building of a new nuclear weapons plant as well as the corrupt ways in which it is being financed. And while most of the people refused to post bail, the police and government officials will be forced to hear peaceful, yet intentional objections to what is occurring in our city tomorrow morning in court along with more beneficial alternatives.

While I did not risk arrest, I found much meaning in being present. I am still fairly new to this conversation, so my words are few. But I knew that I wanted to at least be present. While nothing super amazing or event-altering occurred this morning, I experienced moments with God that are initially difficult to explain. After leaving the site, my brain ran in circles trying to process what happened theologically this Monday morning. It was hard to pin point because no dramatic results occurred, I did not stand in front of a bulldozer, or anything else that you’d expect from all the Hollywood depictions of a protest demonstration. I did not trespass, yet I was a part of the witness.

As I mentioned earlier, a drama was performed. It was unique and funny yet powerful and moving. It illustrated how ridiculous it seems that nuclear weapons would be our answer to creating jobs and security when the chemicals seriously harm if not kill the workers and the threat of violence simply increases threats across the board.

And so in the middle of the drama, when the “bomb exploded,” we all fell onto the ground. Somewhere between 150 and 200 people lay on the ground followed by 30 seconds of silence. And in these moments, I could feel the cold earth under me as I stared at the blue sky. In these moments- between songs, laughter, and dance- between marching and standing- in these moments lying amongst other bodies staring at the vast sky above, it hit me…

I am participating in the stand against destruction.

I am participating in the hopes of transformation.

THIS... IS... the surrendering of myself... as I literally lie down with no words to say... but the heart and passion that presence is enough.

I crossed the line from words to action.

It was not about the results from the day. It was not about the effectiveness of the event. In these moments where nothing was even said, I felt the power of action in presence. The truth of Mother Theresa’s words hit me at a new level. “We are called not to be successful but to be faithful.” And here I lay… faithfully to the convictions God placed upon me… unaware of what was to happen next but willing to no longer be absent or apathetic. Here I was… literally lying out my faith.

And as I ‘died’ to what is, I then saw hope in what could be.

I witnessed this potential of transformation when the stark, looming images- the sources of this destruction- the larger than life-sized puppets of city council, J.E. Dunn, and Zimmer- were covered with the petition to end the building of another nuclear weapons plant in Kansas City, the hopes of building ‘green,’ the desire to grow food and not bombs. These images of destruction transformed into images of hope.