I can be melodramatic. This I know. Things just impact me. I’ve started watching re-runs of Saved By the Bell with my AM coffee because watching the news makes me cry. And since I cry watching beer commercials, I thought it best to limit the emotional stimuli in my life. If not for myself, I did it to fortify my relationship with my roommate who gets a front row seat for the Extreme Home Make-over moments.
My friend, Jared just spent 6 weeks working at a medical center in Ghana. He would tell me about his work there, and I would try, in vain I might add, to get him to leave out all the details. I played it off like it was the blood and gore of his stories that were unsettling to me. My baby sister and mom were gifted with the ability to handle bodily fluids with grace. I was not. It was the desperation of the people in his stories, those beautiful people with smiles that change your life, that was too much for me to carry. The truth is that there are days when I think I can actually feel the birth pains of this world. Broken, tortured, violent, cruel, unjust. You hear stories about Darfur, Fallujah and St. Louis and wonder if the world has gone completely mad. The answer is yes.
I bet you’re wondering why I added St. Louis as a temple of unholy cities. A judge gave a women 10 years for “renting” her nine year old daughter to a pedophile. She even held her down. For 20 bucks. I guess that’s the going rage…I mean rate for a little girl’s soul these days. The judge only gave her 10 years because “she took some parenting classes and isn’t a danger to the public.”
I feel helpless. Why did I leave HCS? MANY reasons. But most weighty was that the job became more about the political fight and the issue itself than the truth or helping people. Not that people there don’t care about people. It’s just the nature of the beast. For 6 years, I would call my dad crying because I didn’t feel I could make a difference. I could teach the best lesson and inevitably, a young girl would pull me aside after class and tell me how her grandfather sexually abused her for years. And what could I do? Gracefully convey my anger. That was it. I couldn’t throw him in jail…or in the ocean. I couldn’t heal her pain. I couldn’t help her to see the treasure that she is and that El Roi SEES. I couldn’t stop it from happening to another girl.
I must confess that my flesh is typing right now. I know that El Roi sees. His justice will come down. I know that Jehovah Raffa hurts. His healing will come down. I know that The Warrior protects little ones everyday. His shield will come down. How I long for Jehovah Shilom to bring His peace to this madness.
How do I get in the trenches without being consumed by the saturating hopelessness in them. How do I find the strength of heart that Jared has to just keep walking where there is a need?
Maybe it’s just a matter of submission. God hands out the assignments and we are to serve Him faithfully. It is my untrusting, rebellious heart that wishes to have the impact that The Bono or an Oprah has.
I don’t know how to dam up this stream of consciousness. Oh, speaking of Bono…Go to http://www.charlestonsanctuary.com and listen to the keynote address he gave at the Presidential Prayer Breakfast. It’s 21 minutes, but worth every second.