It just isn’t God’s fault.

This week, like everyone who has a computer or TV, I’ve been swimming in the deluge of political punditry, slinging accusations back and forth in recognition of the five-year anniversary of 9/11.

I think some of it make good (albeit heavy-handed) arguments, like Keith Olbermann’s 9 minute rant on Monday’s Countdown. Some of it continues to repeat blatant lies – things the President himself refuted during his Monday night war rally speech.

But I’m not really concerned anymore about who was right and who was wrong and how we got there. I’m beyond that.

I’m just sorrowful down to the depths of my soul.

I’m so sad about the state this world and its affairs. I’m grieved by our arrogance. When I reflect back on 9/11, I still can’t believe that it happened. I can’t believe that someone’s hate would drive them to murder innocent civilians in the first place…let alone in the name of God.

I’m also angered that our government allowed itself to sink into the horror of that day, and instead became increasingly hardheaded towards reasonable discourse.

Instead, it is five years later, and we have made such little progress. There is still no memorial in New York and we are still tied up in a quagmire in Iraq. Shirin Ebadi, the Nobel Peace Prize winner from Iran had this to say: (she) also faulted the United States for using democracy and human rights concerns as a pretext for war in Afghanistan and Iraq, saying, "Democracy cannot be spread through a cluster of bombs." (Read the whole thing here.)

The physical disgust that I feel today reminds me of my second night in Nairobi. I had just gotten back to the guest house and had to make sense of the atrocities I’d seen that day.

I’d held children with AIDS. I’d seen a government that extorts its own people and won’t allow aid to get to those who need it. I’d seen a dump spread out towards the horizon and rise 15 feet into the air. It was in the middle of a neighborhood just behind a newly built orphanage. We almost retched as we walked through the school.

I paced behind the guest house, shaking like an insane woman, weeping so hard that I thought I’d throw up. I stared up at the black sky, hoping to see God peering back down through the heavens at me. I screamed. I cursed. I grieved. In that moment I realized why people ask this question:

Where is God?

I came to the same conclusion that night in July that I reach today.

God has not abandoned us. It is us who have abandoned each other.

We are human beings. We are capable of despicable acts, horrendous atrocities and unadulterated evil. But we are also capable of producing peace, live-giving love and cultivating harmony.

We are capable of feeding the hungry. If we would share our abundance and accurately look at what we need, we could solve this problem.

We are capable of ending wars. If we would seek diplomacy, shed our ego and work towards a compromise…not a no-lose scenario.

We are capable of honoring innocent victims. If we would rightly honor their legacy, remembering them, seeking peace, and holding our government accountable.

Jesus told us to love our enemies and bless those who curse us. (Luke 6:27) He told us the true nature of peace – that those who practice it are the sons of God. He told us that those who mourn will be comforted. (Matthew 6:3-11)

We are the ones who have forgotten the tools at our disposal. These commands and instructions are the valuable things that could create the peace that he promised when he delivered us from the wages of sin.

These are the ways we disappoint and he still shows up.

He is not gone. It is time that we learned to practice his example.

Love both neighbor and enemy. Pray for both Christian and Muslim. Work it out in our communities and watch hope spread.

Maybe then our government might listen.