July 25, 2019

Jesus Is There

Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. – Psalm 27:10

The Bible was old and tattered, written in a language that was hard for me to understand. Still, I clung to it.

The suicide notes were written; my death planned out. Pain had numbed what was left of my heart. I was only 15 and, yet, all these years later I still remember the deep, wounding hurt.

I went outside still clutching my Bible, a remnant from childhood of the woman who hated me so, and sank into the grass. My tears were gone. My task was to survive until evening came.

I flipped open the Bible and looked down to read wherever my eyes landed. This verse drew me as I read it over and over again. God. He met me there in my brokenness, giving me a hope I didn’t feel and a purpose I couldn’t understand.

I wish I could say that life became perfect in the days and weeks that followed. It didn’t. My mother didn’t love or want me. It was a hard truth.

I wish I could say that I lived a perfect life, always pleasing God. I didn’t and I haven’t. Brokenness has a way of begetting more brokenness. That’s not an excuse but rather a fact. Recovery programs are littered with broken people. But there are just as many broken people who walk invisible amongst us each day. They carry their scars inside. They pretend so that others won’t see their pain.

My Bible today is littered with marks. Its easy-to-read words are highlighted and underlined. I cling to it whether times are good or bad. It tells the story of my life.

I don’t know your story. I don’t know your struggles or heartache. I don’t know your pain. But Jesus does. He meets us where we are. He comforts us, guides us, and fills us up inside. When the days are hard and the nights seem never-ending, call on Him. Don’t give up. Jesus is right there.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Give God Your Pain and Suffering

Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. -- Psalm 27:10

I was 15. And I was just so tired of trying. Of hurting. Of being rejected again and again, day after day.

So I made a decision. With her words of hatred echoing in my mind, I planned it down to the last detail. The notes were written. I felt a peace that can only come after deep despair.

All that remained was to wait until night, when their family was asleep. This was one thing I wanted to do without an audience of critics. I grabbed a tattered Bible, a hand me down that I treasured, and headed outside.

Tears streamed down my face as I sank to my knees. I held the faded black book to my chest, as a parent might hold a small child close. It was the closest I got to hugs most of the time.

I wiped my eyes and opened the Bible. My eyes fell on this Scripture from Psalms. I’m sure it doesn’t seem like much to some but to this battered teen desperate for love and acceptance, it was everything. It gave me enough hope and courage to put those plans aside and hang on for another day, another week, another year.

That’s the day, the moment, when the Holy Spirit entered me. I know many people view their Baptism as “the” day but for me it was that afternoon when I was all alone and He came to me. And changed me.

Some memories never fade and that is one of them. Perhaps it has been on my mind more lately because several people -- none that I’ve known personally -- have committed suicide. I see families and friends struggle with heartbreak and questions that will never really go away.

And I remember how close I came to ending it all because I’d lost hope that tomorrow would ever be a better day. That’s what Jesus gives to us -- hope. A promise that God is with us, that He never leaves us. Strength to make it through the hard times of failure and rejection, hopelessness and despair. A light that reminds us that no matter how dark life seems, there’s a candle flickering ahead to beckon us forward into another day.

I somehow want to tell those who are lost, who feel forgotten, worthless, desperate, that there is an answer that promises life. His name is Jesus Christ. And He’s waiting for you to call His name.

That’s what I did that day. I didn’t even know it at the time. But in desperation I cried out to God -- and He heard me. He answered me. He saved me. And He’ll save you too, if you’ll only trust Him with your life.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Pay Attention To Hurting Children

Even if my father and mother abandon me, the LORD will hold me close. -- Psalm 27:10

It’s hard to hear the news reports of children missing. It’s harder to hear the reports of bodies found and then realizing that someone close to the child is guilty of something horrible. But the hardest by far is when a parent abuses or murders a child. That hits us deep in our hearts.

It just seems unnatural for a parent to hurt a child. Oh, I’m not talking about hurt feelings or a time out. You know that. I’m talking about real pain, whether it’s physical or emotional. Parents are supposed to love their children no matter what so how can a parent not love his/her child?

Yet it happens every moment of every day. We only hear about the horrific cases on the news reports. We might know of a situation where children were taken from their parents due to abuse or neglect. But what about the children who remain with parents who abuse or mistreat them. Do you see them? Do you hear their cries? Because chances are they are in families that, from the outside at least, look exactly like yours.

That’s what we don’t want to see. We want to believe that abuse only happens on the other side of town. We don’t want to think it happens to people we know. We make excuses. We shake it off, certain that we didn’t see or hear what we thought we saw and heard.

So what happens when you suspect abuse? Do you call the authorities? Do you tell someone at their school? Do you ignore it? Do you reassure yourself that you’re overreacting? Do you turn a hurting child away because you’re convinced that intervention would only make it worse?

I’m glad we have laws now that require abuse be reported. They need to be stricter. Maybe we’re moving toward that. We are so busy not getting into other people’s business that we fail to do what is right, what is just, what is moral.

We talk sometimes about how it takes a village to raise a child. You’re part of that village. So am I. We don’t get a pass to look the other way.

I’m not suggesting you put yourself in an unsafe situation. Sometimes the best thing you can do is call the police or child welfare and let their trained professionals handle the situation. Sometimes being a safe haven for a child is the best solution, especially if your children are the same age. But don’t just do nothing.

There are hurting children all around us. Pay attention. Child abuse isn’t okay under any circumstances. Take action to stop it when you see or even suspect it’s happening. Do what’s right, what is just, what is moral.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Don't Look the Other Way

"Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." -- Psalm 27:10

Rarely a day goes by that I don't read in the newspaper or see on television that someone has abused another child. Sometimes it's a stranger but usually it seems to be an acquaintance or a family member. The very people who are supposed to protect the child, hurt the child.

I wonder how many people suspected something was going on. I wonder how many people told themselves it was none of their business. I wonder how many people were so wrapped up in their own lives that they couldn't or wouldn't take time to stick their nose into a child's life.

Many years ago I was working in a mall one Sunday afternoon. I could hear a child yelling. Soon a hysterical four-year-old was headed my way. He'd lost his parents. He was screaming and crying as he ran through the mall. Parents strolled nearby with their children. People glanced his way but kept going. No one tried to help the child.

I knelt down and held open my arms and he ran to me. A nearby store employee called security. People laughed at the boy's hysteria. His unconcerned parents said they'd merely been trying to teach him a lesson so he'd stay up with them next time. Yeah. Somehow I think they could have taught that lesson without traumatizing him.

I was most amazed at the lack of concern by anyone. Didn't they understand that anyone could have stopped that child, told him they would take him to his parents, then led him right out of the mall? I vowed then that I would never walk away from a child in trouble, no matter how busy I thought I was.

So why do we look away when it's up close and personal? It makes us uncomfortable to stand up for a child. We worry about retaliation. We think we must be wrong because they're a "good" family. Well, abuse happens in rich families and poor families. It happens in normal families down the street. It happens in white families, black families and hispanic families. It happens to people we know.

Sometimes the best thing -- and safest thing -- is to notify the police. They are specially trained to handle abuse cases. You don't even have to reveal who you are. Just remember it's better to be report abuse and be wrong than to not report it and be right.

The other thing we can do is become a safe haven for the child being abused. We can listen. We can offer support and compliments and time -- even when we think we don't have any. And, most importantly, we can tell that child about Jesus because Jesus is a refuge when no other refuge exists.

 Don't look the other way when you suspect someone is abusing a child. Jesus wouldn't stand silently on the sidelines. Why do we?