Walking into town with my family on our way to go play basketball one night after dinner, there was no way I could have prepare myself for the turn our night was about to take. Although darkness blanketed the night, the huge mass of people crowding around one house was very evident. It was as if the whole village was pressed up against each other watching and waiting.
Totally clueless as to what was happening, a few of us racers and our host family walked closer. Had I known what I was about to witness, maybe I would have turned around. As my friend Nik got closer, I watched shock was over his face as the door to the home opened. Immediately walking back towards us he told us what he saw. A girl hanging from a noose in her home.
Frozen in a mixture of emotions I can’t even begin to put into words, we silently watched as a small body wrapped in cloth was carried out of the house, place in the bed of a one of the police trucks, and drive away.
All I could hear was the cries of family and friends as they realized their loved one wouldn’t be coming back home.
She was 16 years old.
Sitting on the fountain that night, I was thankful for the cool wind hitting my face and the tears running down my cheeks. I was thankful because it meant I was feeling something. It meant I was alive. As I sat there, my mind began to fill with all of the words wish I could have said to this young girl. But it was already too late. There were no more words to be said.
Two days later I went back to that home. This time she was there, but in a casket. I finally was able to see the beautiful face of the girl who had weighed so heavily on my heart. There was a picture of her on top of her small casket. She was beautiful. She was young.
I can’t describe the heart break I felt as I watched her mom fall to her knees and sob as we prayed over her. Or the way her friend leaned over her casket and talked to her as tears streamed down her face. My heart clenched so hard that I could hardly breathe.
“I’m sorry.” I told her I was sorry because she was too young to believe that everything wasn’t going to be okay. She was too young to believe that things weren’t ever going to get better. And I told her that I was sorry because I knew what she felt.
I lived in that place too.
Many people live here. A life without purpose, without worth, and without hope. It’s a life without God. A life without a relationship with Jesus Christ and His truth.
That night I realized that could have been me had I given up. I could have been being taken away in the bed of a pickup truck. And I wouldn’t be around to witness how great and happy my life is now. God brought me through that and now I have a life that I am so thankful for. A life filled with the beauty, joy and greatness of a God who loves His children. Who died for the lives of His children.
I know what it’s like to believe that life isn’t going to get better. And I know that’s a lie. A lie of the enemy that too many people believe. Because it does get better. God comes to us as we are but He does not leave us as we are. He rids of us our chains and of our shame and replaces them with His freedom and His love and His joy. I know it gets better because my life got better.
She will never know that. She will never experience that. And for that I’m sorry. For that my heart brakes.
