Back in December I read a book called Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson.
He’s a lawyer who works to get innocent men (mostly black) off of death row. Who works to get children out of adult prisons, and out of life sentences for things they did when they were too young to even comprehend their crimes. When I finished reading I found myself crying in my bedroom in Thailand to my two squad mates. Desperately trying to explain where the flood was coming from.
We are at an orphanage this month. After years of racking up clinical hours volunteering at the Unity Center and other schools for my degree, and working at Club Libby Lu – I know I can be good with kids. But it doesn’t come naturally. I have to be conscious every moment of giving these kids my all. I have to constantly remind myself that Jesus cares more about me loving on them, than the fact that their dirty hands are combing through and pulling out my hair, that as much as I want to get frustrated by the crying, or the tugging and pulling on my clothes as I try to get all the dishes done before we head off to school- He cares more about the love than about the dishes being done.
Never the less, giving it my all drains me. I hit a breaking point last Friday, waking up emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted. It was not a good morning, and I was not Christlike in many ways. I sat with Jesus during my quiet time that afternoon and cried and prayed for a perspective change.
The kids here have sad stories. I mean – we’re at an orphanage. Some of them have HIV, some were abused, some were sold, some were abandoned.
Two of the boys that are here are here because their mother committed a crime. I know that when some of you read this you will probably say – she was on drugs. She wasn’t. Witchcraft runs rampant here and I’m guessing the story you are about to read is more common than one would think. The mother walking to school one day, felt sick, she started to head home, and when she got there she got attacked by an animal that wouldn’t let up. She asked her son to give her a knife so she could fight the animal off. She stabbed the animal. The attack was a hallucination. The animal was her mother, the boy‘s grandmother. She had murdered her own mom.
There was justice, but not mercy. Her children were taken away, the youngest only a month old. Her mother dead. The prison guards knew her, could tell she was lucid, that it wasn’t something she had ever intended to do. They sympathized, because as I said these stories aren’t as uncommon as we would like to believe. The grief and shame and guilt from what she has done landed her in a mental hospital.
On Thursday, one of my teammates and I, took the two boys to see their mother. The older one had seen her 5 months ago. The youngest hadn’t seen her since he was a month old – and he’ll be 4 in July.
Once again, I walked into a place I’d never been before. A mental hospital. I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve never met someone who has killed another person before. I didn’t know how I would be. She came in to see her children as we sat with the boys and the social workers. She was kind, gentle, with it. And she had such love in her eyes especially for her youngest one who she hadn’t seen in years. She even spoke perfect English to ask us some questions, does the youngest still have a heart problem, is the oldest doing better in school, do they act like brothers at the orphanage or just friends?
We couldn’t really answer. We’ve known them little over a week.
We showed her pictures of the boys playing with us, talked about what they like to play with and how well they can kick the ball around. We played the youngest one’s favorite song that he loved to dance to. I could tell the info brought her joy. She just wanted to hold him and kiss him so tight. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to just be his mother in every way possible.
But he didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t dance for her. He didn’t want to sit by her really. He wasn’t the boy I knew, the one who laughs and smiles. He didn’t cry or kick and scream, but he was uncomfortable being around a complete stranger in this way. Uncomfortable around his mom.
And as I watched all this happen, I couldn’t help but get deeply angry inside, I held back tears for most of the visit. It dawned on me that this woman had been robbed. And her children had been robbed. Every time I do the dishes with him- it’s because she doesn’t get to. Every time he sits in my lap, it’s because she doesn’t get to hold him. Every time I fix his clothes, or kick the soccer ball with him, or walk him to school – it’s because she’s locked up missing out on the moments any mother dreams of having. And he only gets to have those moments when a volunteer shows up once in awhile and pretends to be mom for a month.
I’ve read John 10:10 a million times.
“The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. I came so that they can have life- indeed so that they could live life to the fullest.”
But I never saw before how much and how well he steals from us.
Until now.
I got my perspective change.
Now to clarify, there are consequences for sin. I understand that. And I’m not saying that there shouldn’t be responsible systems in place to keep us safe. There should be.
But we cling to this idea of human justice more than the Lord ever intended us to. What is it about putting an innocent man in jail, or a child in jail, or punishing someone, that makes us feel so safe? Why is our safety entrusted to humans who routinely make bad judgements out of fear and bias rather than the Lord? Why are we a society obsessed with revenge, an eye for an eye – when the Lord clearly told is He wanted more from us?
“ I came so that they could live life to the fullest.”
Paul was a criminal. Jesus was a criminal.
And in God’s eyes- I once was too.
But God saw more in me, and I can’t wrap my mind around why we can’t see more in others the way He does. Because as Christians we all have the Spirit and God’s love inside us and we are 100% capable of taking the enemy’s foothold away as he robs people.
It’s easy to go to church and tell others that they are more than the sum of their past mistakes. But it’s not easy to walk into a drug rehab, or a mental hospital or a prison and actually live that belief out. And that. That is the enemy robbing us of our compassion, and our mercy and our God given authority to fight for each other, and who people could be if we fought for them to know that in Christ they are MORE. Because living that belief out… that’s what we are called to do.
People mess up. And that’s sin and it steals from us. It steals loved ones, items, homes. Sin kills. It kills people we love and it will kill us one day too. But when we only see people as the sum of their sinful mistakes that’s when the enemy gets a license to destroy. And we can fight that.
We can walk in our authority to forgive.
We can walk in our authority to heal.
We can walk in our authority to love.
We can walk in our authority to rehabilitate.
We can walk in our authority to cast out fear in decision making.
We can walk in our authority to start seeing the bigger picture, to see Satan where we want to see just people that messed up, to fight for redemption.
I work with kids that have been robbed. But the beauty is that I can fight for them to have everything the Lord still wants to give them which will be abundantly more than what we could ever imagine. I just have to start walking in that authority.
But I would love to come home to a place where I’m not the only one walking in that. I would love to come home to a society, a community, that walks in that. I want to come home to a place where the enemy doesn’t get to rob and destroy as much as he is right now. Because we can change all that. We just have to start walking in it.
