History in the Making V: Ordinary Heroes
Where is God?
Gary Haughn writes, For many of us, the ugliness of abuse and oppression in our world leads us, quite understandably to ask: Where is God in the midst of such suffering? … But over time,having seen the suffering of the innocent and the crushing of the weak all around the world… I find myself asking not, Where is God? But, Where are God’s people? …Given all the power and resources that God has placed in the hands of humankind, I have yet to see any injustice of humankind that could not also be stopped by humankind…
The more I have come to know him, the harder it has become for me to ask such a God to explain where he has been. In fact, surprisingly, I don’t generally hear the victims of abuse doubting the presence of God either. Much more often I hear them asking me, “Where have you been?”
And it’s more than a fair question. The victims instinctinvely sense, I believe, that humankind could, if it chose to, use the power and capacities that God has granted to overwhelm the forces of darkness that oppress them. And thus the pain of the victims’ question, for they suspect that their suffering is of the cruelest kind – the kind that is unnecessary. The deepest hurt comes not from the injury itself, but from the knowledge that they are so despised by some who would will their suffering and so unloved by others as to be unmoved by their suffering. And it all need not be so. Indeed, there is nothing I am more passionately convinced of through all of these travels through the world of brutal injustice than the simple truth that it need not be so.
Abby’s Heart
I talked to my friend Abby from Ohio this morning. She spent the weekend at a conference aimed at raising awareness about human trafficking (and its existence within American borders). At the conference, many women shared personal experiences of being a sex slave and being raped repeatedly with no apparent hope of escape. Abby is devastated. And angry. And heartbroken. Torn by feelings of powerlessness. It reminds me of the waves of emotion I experienced in Bangkok. She has chosen to open her heart to the pain of others. She wants to hope for change. In a voice of broken desperation, she asked me the question… So what can we do?
…Paul Rusesenbagina, whose grusome life experiences were featured in the movie Hotel Rwanda, spoke at my university a few years ago. He described the horrors of surviving a genocide. At the end of his presentation, myself along with many of my friends were moved with a desire to do something, anything, to prevent such atrocities from ever happening again. Someone asked, “So, what can we do?”
What can we do?
Isn’t that the question? Even when we confront the apathy and false powerlessness in our lives and devote ourselves to helping others, what can we do? Paul Rusesenbagina didn’t have a clear answer. He encouraged awareness and political influence, but said in the end, “People have to decide to stop killing each other.” I do not have an answer either. I haven’t figured out how to not get overwhelmed. I do know that we need more ordinary heroes.
Ordinary Heroes
I am not the first to coin this phrase. I think Shane Claiborne uses it in Irresistible Revolution, his call to the hidden heroes to step up. From their apperance on the public scene, I have always been inspired by the founders of Invisible Children. Three ordinary guys took off to Sudan and ended up meeting runaway child soldiers and refugees in Uganda. Now they have spread the word and thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people are getting invovled. They are building schools and investing in the otherwise forgotten Ugandan youth. It started with a dream, a farfetched one at that, but it has become a world-changing movement.
These guys were no different than you and I… There are no easy answers to global suffering and horrifying assaults on humankind. But that does not excuse us from trying.
Let’s be the answer.
Let’s be history-makers.
Let’s be world-changers.
I don’t know where your place is in the sea of need. But I know you have a place.
