lives unlived

The old adage goes: a picture is worth a thousand words. I saw a picture the other day as I was scrolling through Facebook on my phone while on my lunch break from my bank job in nice, safe Midwestern USA, land of the free, home of the brave, land of opportunity. It took a moment for my mind to register the picture I was seeing. It was in relation to a news story that has been filling my social media feed recently. But I had not seen this picture before.

It was a little girl, maybe 2 years old, looking up as three gun barrels pointed at her from different directions. The look on her face was one of puzzlement. I doubt that she knows what a gun is, much less what one does, much less that she should be concerned that she had three pointing at her beautiful little face. 

That picture may not have given me a thousand words, but it did give me a few choice ones. I tend to steer away from hot button topics and avoid posting about current events and news, mostly because I think enough people already post about these things. I would rather pray my words than post them. 

But that picture kindled a deep fury within me. Maybe because two year olds are my favorite. But I honestly think it goes deeper than that. 

As a follower of the Living, Everlasting God, I am a firm believer in life and life abundantly. I believe that every person is a precious, beloved, unique creation of God, and that God alone is the one who holds the power of death and life in His hands. Let me say right now that I don't pretend to understand that power or how He decides to use it. I am not privy to God's just judgements of death and life. But this is what I do know. God's heart is for life. It is for the weak and helpless. His heart is for the lost and broken. 

I know this because He ate with sinners. I know this because He said that the good shepherd leaves the ninety-nine sheep and goes looking for the one that is lost, and when He finds it he rejoices with great rejoicing. I know this because He is the good Father watching the road for the prodigal son to come home. His heart is that all would have life and life abundantly. 

The fury in my soul is for life taken, taken without permission when it should be preserved. The fury in my soul is for lives unlived.

My heart is grieved and angry for every life taken, from the children whose lives are taken from them before they have even had a chance to live, to the inmate on death row, to the soldier in the field, to the murder victim, to the one with mental illness who cannot cope any more, to the one who has lost all hope, to the lives taken suddenly through accidents. My heart is grieved and furious over death, the great consequence of the forbidden fruit.

And this causes me, as a healer, to cry out even more for the redemption of all things. The victory is already won, but the King in His great mercy is delaying, for He is not willing that any should perish for eternity. I do not pretend to understand the workings of a heart so much greater and deeper than mine, nor do I pretend to understand the power of life and death because that is not my place.

I don't know what became of that little girl with the guns pointed at her head. I don't know if she lived or died or if she is held captive somewhere. But my prayer is that she lives, that she lives abundantly. And even more my prayer is that she would know the Life Giver, for then even in death she will know life.