“He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”
I confess that I have never trusted the crowd, not even one assembled to celebrate and cheer.
Sporting events, political rallies, protests, marches, marathons, block parties, rodeos, concerts and even hootenannies — all leave me ill at ease, a lonely island, even when I shouldn’t be.
Attending such events, my anxiety tends to bruise me, as I begin to imagine all the worst things the crowd can be and how swiftly ordered liberty can give way to some form or fashion of tyranny.
I suppose, temperamentally, I still agree with that old cynic George Carlin: "People are wonderful. I love individuals. I hate groups of people. I hate a group of people with a 'common purpose'. 'Cause pretty soon they have little hats. And armbands. And fight songs. And a list of people they're going to visit at 3am. So, I dislike and despise groups of people but I love individuals. Every person you look at; you can see the universe in their eyes, if you're really looking.”
Of course, I try not to let my smoldering daydreams of catastrophe show outwardly. I don’t want to ruin the party for anyone else.
But, as I put on my best face to enjoy the world’s spectacles with my friends and family in tow, my depressive disposition almost always sows my suspicion that the crowd can transform into something blind, deaf, angry, and proud — an unruly mob all too ready to shout and cry out for havoc in the streets.
Yet, these days, one need not be in the streets to see what’s happening in the streets. One can easily watch behind some small screen in the comfort of one’s own home, knowing the global public square could play out on almost any street, anywhere.
Any street, anywhere could become a scene for the whole wide world to watch man’s fallen nature at play — the good, the bad, and the ugly on real-time, multi-angled virtual display. From Tehran to Minneapolis, any street can become a bloody stage for players and spectators to judge and gauge, whether they respond with prayers of peace or frenzied incitement to further outrage.
Maybe the mayhem is justified. Maybe it is not. Maybe the havoc must be had when tyrants must be fought. Yet, tyranny comes in many forms, many shapes and shades. “Who is the oppressor?” and “who is the oppressed?” isn’t always easy to say. After all, how many times have the oppressed become the oppressors when their dog finally has his day?
Sometimes, tyrants reside in great halls and commission jackbooted men. Sometimes, tyrants are no-name rebels with nothing to lose and nothing to win. Sometimes tyrants live in confusion confounded by doubts that amount to nothing but empty wind. Sometimes tyrants live in certainty secured with clout, never having to answer for their bootless sins.
Maybe, tyranny wins when emperors and rebels say “it’s us or them” and convince the crowd there is no third way. Maybe, true liberty’s humble servant has no need to shout or cry out in the streets for justice to win the day.
Perhaps, I should have more faith that the crowd may yet repent — that the waters of grace are humbly at work in the midst of the mayhem I so suspiciously resent.
Perhaps, I should have more hope that a chosen crowd may one day be a light to the nations, a song of service roaring over the seas, giving sight and sound to the blind and deaf, and setting the prisoners of tyranny’s darkest dungeons free.
Perhaps, I should have more love for the crowd, seeing each lonely island individually, whether watching mostly peaceful protests or the harsh enforcement of authority.
Perhaps I should get out more and see the streets beyond the filter of the small screen, rather than force-feed myself every angle of the global streets’ latest tragedies.
Or, maybe, I should just put the phone down and pick up the Good Book instead.
I confess I have never trusted the crowd, not even one assembled to celebrate and cheer. That’s my cross to bear, as my depressive disposition is all too real.
Yet, maybe more than the crowd, the Lord is who I should fear, that I may shake my suspicions and celebrate His victory with hope and good cheer.
Joey Clark is a native Alabamian and is currently the host of the radio program News and Views on News Talk 93.1 FM WACV out of Montgomery, AL, M-F 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. His column appears every Tuesday in 1819 News. To contact Joey for media or speaking appearances, as well as any feedback, please email [email protected]. Follow him on X @TheJoeyClark or watch the radio show livestream.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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