Easter is over now, but as I seem to have a lot of difficulty staying on schedule, I'm doing my reflecting after the fact. The week following Palm Sunday is typically supposed to be a reminder of the suffering of Christ before his death, and in order to better understand that idea my young adult group challenged one another to spend every morning in intentional prayer and Bible study time before doing anything else that we typically might do before taking time with Christ so that He truly is priority before all other activities in the day. In doing this, I definitely felt God's presence at work, but it wasn't necessarily a "happy" week at all. I was confronted twice by different people about attitudes or behaviors that I needed to change. One of my kids was extremely argumentative and acted out every day. Our newest family had a scare, fearing their abuser had found them. I began to feel more emotionally drained from the lack of alone time I can find. (With three girls now living in my apartment, we have a blast and make lots of great memories, but it reminds me that I'm still an introvert!)
On Friday night, my new roommate, Rachel, and I were in the local drug store when we observed a man walk in holding a young Asian girl tightly by the arm as she stared down at the floor. To the general public it wasn't necessarily anything super out of the ordinary, but both Rachel and I got a weird feeling... he obviously wasn't her father. We paid for our merchandise and left the building, but once in the parking lot Rachel talked through all of the suspicious evidence that pointed to the possibility that girl had been abducted. We decided to sit in my car and wait for them to leave the building to observe their behavior, and Rachel was determined to report it to the police.
The whole situation felt completely unreal to me, because I've only seen trafficking stories in the movies or on the news... yet it never registered before that it really does happen. Rachel is from a large northwestern city where trafficking is highly common and has a father who would literally follow people who behaved suspiciously and report them to police. Thank goodness she was there and is passionate about advocating for women or girls in crisis, because all I knew to do was pray that if that little girl really was in danger that she be saved before anything terrible happened to her.
Rachel correctly guessed which vehicle belonged to the man in question... sure enough, an out-of-state truck, parked just two vehicles over from my car. The man, holding the girl by the arm the entire time, as if in case she might run away, opened the back door of his truck even though the front passenger seat was opened. He hesitated and kept looking around the entire time. Rachel gave me the play-by-play, because I was so freaked I couldn't watch the man for fear he might figure out we had caught on to him... yes, I'm a bit of a wimp. I just prayed. Rachel called the police and gave detailed descriptions of what the vehicle and people looked like. We can only hope they followed through and sent out a search.
We don't know if the girl really was in danger, and I must admit that it feels sort of glamorous to be part of such a story (even though had I been alone I probably would have done nothing). It's fun to tell crazy stories. And in an area where camera crews are regularly seen filming for movies or TV shows, it's as if everyone's trying to get the best story so the audience will come back for more... sometimes at the expense of someone else's suffering. Why else is violence so common in the media? Because people get some sort of sick entertainment from watching people suffer. I shouldn't even be writing this, because I'm just as guilty, feeling proud when I get to tell about a certain person's sad circumstance and get a reaction. Isn't that why I just spent so much time writing out that story??
This isn't to say stories shouldn't be told. My roommate has closely followed the Trevon Martin case and even participated in an LA protest for him. What happened to that boy was a terrible thing, and the reason so many people are fighting to get his story told is to get a reaction from the public that will help bring about change and a better future. His story isn't unique; shootings happen nearly every day in cities throughout our nation. People's suffering should never be exploited for the entertainment of others. Their stories should only be told to bring about change.
What about the suffering of a Jewish man who served the poor, healed the sick, raised the dead, and was completely innocent? Do I get so angry at His story of suffering? Especially since His was totally undeserved? Do I jump at the opportunity to tell people about how the intensity of His story? Unfortunately I do not.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)
Jesus, forgive me for glamorizing the plight of the poor and the oppressed.
Forgive me for using them for my own selfish reasons.
Forgive me for using them to fill my need to be needed.
Forgive me for all the times I pretend they aren't there.
Forgive my ignorance of their problems.
Forgive me for thinking I'm somehow superior.
You never acted superior, did You?
Even though You are King over all creation.
You humbled yourself, even to a torturous death.
Because that's what the Father asked of You.
May I be so obedient to the Father's will!
Therefore, when Christ came into the world, he said:
“Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
but a body you prepared for me;
with burnt offerings and sin offerings
you were not pleased.
Then I said, ‘Here I am—it is written about me in the scroll—
I have come to do your will, my God.’” (Hebrew 10:5-7)
with burnt offerings and sin offerings
you were not pleased.
Then I said, ‘Here I am—it is written about me in the scroll—
I have come to do your will, my God.’” (Hebrew 10:5-7)
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