Undone

The world is coming undone and we can feel it in real time. Everywhere we turn, threads are unraveling: in our communities, our conversations, and even in our sense of trust. It’s not subtle. And the harder we pull at each other, the more tangled everything becomes.

I came across something I wrote in September 2020, another time of unraveling. It feels as urgent and necessary now as it did then.

“The World Is Coming Undone”, September 2020

I sat with this, or moved rather, on my walk this morning. I feel this. From conversations with dear friends, I gather that I’m not alone.

Just the thought of that word, “undone”, would immediately transport any ‘90s American rock fan to Nashville’s Starwood Ampitheater in 1995 with the amazing voice of Rivers Cuomo and the brilliant licks of Brian Bell, singing about Buddy Holly and going surfing.

And then there’s Undone or “The Sweater Song.” You know the one. That’s right. You’re singing with me now, right? This song was always a fun sort of non-sense song to sing-scream along to in a purple Dodge Neon.

Then there is today. “The world is coming undone.” The song replayed in my head:

If you want to destroy my sweater

Hold this thread as I walk away

Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked

Lying on the floor

I've come undone

I don't want to destroy your tank top

Let's be friends and just walk away

It's good to see you lying there in your Superman skivvies

Lying on the floor

I've come undone

That’s not a non-sense song. That’s a sad song. A person who they would choose as a friend seeks to destroy them, leaving them exposed and vulnerable for others to mock. The desire to find some common humanity is denied. There’s a tiny imperfection, just a thread, and the would-be friend chooses to pull it all apart.

I’m afraid our world is coming undone. We’re choosing to deny the humanity in one another. In Christian terms, we’re denying Christ in the other. We’re quick to pick at the loose threads of others’ lives and stand back as it all just comes undone.

There are other choices. I mean, I don’t want to destroy your sweater, and I don’t think you really want to destroy mine, either. But when will we stop trying to undo one another, delighting in the unraveling of other humans?

Perhaps there’s another side to it all. Maybe some unknown to us person is gathering up the yarn, rolling it into a new ball, and is dreaming up a piece that will clothe us all in a way that honors and celebrates rather than destroys.

How might we be part of gathering the yarn? How might we choose connection, generosity, and care in a world that so often rushes toward destruction?