. . For offenses must come . . . Matthew 18:7
Today and tomorrow, Nicaragua celebrates its independence. The kids at CICRIN have been preparing for a celebration parade for a few weeks now, but when I asked if they were dancing in the parade they all said no.
The World Racers and other CICRIN workers went by rickety bus to Los Angeles this morning to watch the kids march in the parade. At a certain point, the parade stopped at this basketball court for dance and band performances. There were a few dances with the marching band and a few with girls dressed in traditional dresses. Then there was a dance with shirtless teenage boys and girls in miniskirts and tank tops. To be honest, it looked like they were having sex instead of dancing. To be even more honest, it’s nothing I haven’t seen in clubs back in the States.
My heart broke at the sexualizing of these girls crawling and shaking on their hands and knees against boys who couldn’t have been older than 15. My heart broke for the 5-, 6-, 7-year old girls in the parade and audience that looked on with either delight or fascination. My heart broke for a culture that tells women that being sexy is the ultimate affirmation, that our identity is wrapped up in it, that our value is dependent on it.
My heart broke because America and Nicaragua aren’t all that different.
I could identify with every woman present at that parade: the young onlooker desiring to have the same attention lavished on her, the dancer delighting in the attention and value lavished upon her and her body, the older woman with apathy etched on her face from experiencing a lifetime of this culture.
It’s hard to not be a Pharisee in this situation, spitting judgment and condemnation from the sidelines. I was offended today because what I was seeing was a distortion on women (and men) and it definitely wasn’t Kingdom. When a fellow Racer told me to quiet my ranting, I realized I didn’t know what love looked like where I was one among hundreds of onlookers.
The CICRIN girls in cultural garb.
This bothered me all day. Did Jesus speak up every time He saw something wrong take place in front of Him? Did being in proximity to a large group’s brokenness ever provoke a strong word from Him? I scoured my Bible looking for clues, but really I couldn’t find anything.
Then tonight during my team’s worship time, I took my struggle to the Lord.
“Lord, did You see the way those kids were dancing today?” I asked.
“Yes,” He said, and proceeded to show me Jesus standing in the crowd looking at the performance. He appeared at about every 5th person and His face had no trace of the apathy, horror, or fascination of the crowd surrounding Him.
“Okay, so You saw everything I saw. What was I supposed to say differently? I couldn’t run in and shut down what was going on even though I desperately wanted to. So what was I supposed to say?”
“My love is not based on words alone,” He replied, “Anyone can judge and condemn, but because you are a part of My people you have relinquished that right to Me. So instead, be the face of love, the face of gentleness that defies this world’s understanding. Stand among the crowd, not looking at the actions performed but into their eyes so that they can see My face through yours. Be the face of love in the crowd.”
A few days ago the Lord reminded me that the root of my desire to go on the Race was to have my heart broken for the things that break that Father’s heart so that I can be rebuilt to love like my Daddy. Today was but a taste of the heart breaking that is to come, but now I know that when offenses do come it’s so I can be that face of love in the crowd and so that the Father can build up a heart of compassion in me. The Kingdom is simple.
