A baby. Someone's baby. Face down on the shore. Washed up from the vastness they had hoped would bring them new life- water that held their fate. Desperation can be the only explanation for putting one's trust in something so volatile.
So we see the picture in the news and our hearts lurch and our stomachs turn, and so does the channel. We can't even watch as the world burns around us... And I have to wonder, are we doing enough? I don't mean our government. I mean us. I mean me. And where do we start? When our news feeds flip from one tragedy to the next, and our hands fall paper white from fear and our eyes burn and our minds race, where do we even start? And will our children see and learn from our mistakes? Will they still claim our Jesus if we sit back and wait on the bodies to wash up on our door step? We can't say we didn't know- not just about the one dead baby in a sea of others, but about all of it. Here and abroad. In our streets and theirs. In our homes and hearts. We can't say we didn't see the quiet racism and the systematic injustices that now spills over into outrage and boils in the streets. We can't say we didn't know of the murder of thousands in their mother's wombs before their lungs had even a chance to take in a breath. We can't claim ignorance to the disintegration of the foundations of families, hidden in the shadows of the internet where promises of instant gratification and self glorification live. We can't say we didn't see. And if we see, we can't stand stock still while there is work to be done. So what do we do? Where does that leave us? Shouldn't we feel the same desperation in our hearts to help a broken and dying world that those migrants felt before putting their hope in the water and cramming their courage into a boat? Go. Move. Help. Be the Church. I'm not talking about earning your way into heaven. I'm talking about embracing your humanity and conceding that we're all in this boat together, and our only hope is in the water. There is hope in Christ. There is truth. The only water that holds the promise of life...
1 Comment
Helen mcNabb
9/3/2015 09:10:59 pm
god Bless you, my dear Grandaughter. Your words are spoken so eloquently. I also could not watch all of the newscast about the precious children pulled from the water. It broke my heart and made me want to embrace all of my sweet family. I can not imagine the horror of parents having to go to that extreme to try to escape God help us all.
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AuthorMy name is Chelsea. Redeemed. Wife. Mommy. Photographer. Light Chaser. I hope you find light here too. Archives
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