Tuesday, November 24, 2015

I Am Scared

Anyone who sets himself up as “religious” by talking a good game is self-deceived. 
This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. 
Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: 
Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, 
and guard against corruption from the godless world.
James 1:26-27 (Message)

"There's a situation, sir, across the sea..."

The man looked up from his computer screen, eyes tired behind the horn-rimmed glasses, the ones his wife insisted he wear. He rubbed them wearily.

"What situation?"

"People, sir. They're washing up."

"Washing up? What do you mean, washing up? Washing clothes? Quitting their jobs? Cleaning themselves?"

"No, sir, they're coming onto shore in boats and rafts. Even innertubes, sir. They have no papers. They have no money. Mostly women and children, sir. They have no food."

The man took the glasses off, holding them carefully by the expensive frame, and sat back in his chair to get a better view of his visitor.

"Across the sea, you say? How is this our business?" He was annoyed. So many issues, so little time. Interruptions and distractions. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose where the glasses usually rested, his eye caught movement on the television screen in the waiting room outside of his office. Past his visitor. Rude of him, really, to look past the other man, but the image, in focus now, compelled him. Ragged people, eyes too big for their heads, tent camps and fences. Refugees. 

The news agencies were all over the situation. The one across the sea. Not here. Funny to be told about it and see it, almost simultaneously. Not here. Not our problem.

"How is this our business?" He asked the question again, but even as he asked, he waved his hand dismissively at the screen in the other room. His visitor blinked at the gesture and turned to see the news report. A long moment passed before he turned back, tears in his eyes.

"We should help, sir. They need..."

Interrupting, the man behind the computer replaced his glasses and looked back at the screen.

"Not today. Not our problem. Not our mess."


"I'm scared."

"Me too."

Tuesday school, her daughter jokingly called it. Tuesday morning Women's Bible Study class. They were studying the Old Testament - all of the good kings and bad kings - all of the judges and heroes. They were at the years of captivity, Babylon, and the worshipping of idols and the killing of babies. Horrible things. Unbelievable things. 

But the conversation today was not about scripture; it was about the terrible events on the news. Shootings. Bombings. Terror. And the refugee crisis in Syria, home of ISIS, the worst of the offenders. Horrible things. Unbelievable things. Scary things.

"Did you hear the President's speech? About Syria and the refugees? He wants to let 10,000 more come over here."

"Ten thousand? That's more than our whole town! We only top out at a little over seven. Thousand. And that's counting every, single man, woman, and child. And probably a few hound dogs..." With a little smile. To lighten up the situation. "Aren't we already doing enough? Remember when we started the backpack program for the kids? Twenty. We wanted to feed twenty. Now it's up over three hundred."

"And the Peace meals. Don't forget those."

"Ten thousand. Imagine. I read about it on Facebook the other day - one of those newsfeed articles. There are millions coming over the borders over there. With just the clothes on their backs. Because their homes are gone - they've been bombed. And the men are coming in - taking girls, taking women, taking boys." Tears threatened to overflow the dam of eyelash and mascara.

"I say we need to take care of our own. Right here. I mean, what if some of those terrorists sneaks into the group the President is talking about? It's just not smart to take that kind of chance - like inviting those people right into our own backyard... It scares me.

"Me too."


"What do you see?"

"I see postings, left and right, for and against, controversy and agreement. Heated, argumentative, pleading, and divisive."

"Good. Social media is an excellent tool for stirring up. What do you hear?"

"Fear. Whispers in the dark, heads in the sand, voices of avoidance. I hear thoughts: not me, not here, and let someone else."

"Ah... wonderful. Our plan is working. Can you feel it?"

"I feel terror."

"Yes. Can you smell it?"

"I smell Death."

"Yes. The end is near - our long-awaited victory. Yes."

Heavenly Father, 
I can only imagine the power for good 
that would be released into this world if 
we followed your Son - 

Love the Lord, your God, and Love one another. 

Help us to be united in these two. 
Grant us wisdom to see through curtains of controversy - strengthen us to glorify you. 
And Father, walk beside the homeless, the hungry, and the broken - 
comfort them, heal them, give them hope,
And help us to help them. 

In the holy name of your Son, Jesus, 

Linking with Unite, #TellHisStory


  1. Powerful post friend! Blessed to be your neighbor at Tell His Story today.

    1. Oh Tara - This world.... But I know that my Redeemer lives!

  2. This is so powerful, Janet. I love the prayer and am praying it with you. Have a Blessed Thanksgiving!

    1. I feel like the littlest angel, sometimes; prayer is all I have to offer - Thank you for praying with me.


I know we probably haven't met in person, but I believe that the sharing of our ideas and thoughts, sometimes our hearts and souls, makes us more than strangers. I would like to say friends. Thank you for taking the time to contribute to my little space - I appreciate you.