Just Show Up

We had just finished our staff devotions when I get a call from Julius, our Cherish driver, “Pastor Brent, the van is broken down.” This is obviously a phone call with some negative implications, like the fact we have a van full of kids on the way to their medical appointments stuck on the side of the road along with the point that the van will need to be towed and the possible costly repairs needed. I tell Julius I will head his way. Larry, a good friend, has just arrived that morning from the states for a visit and I tell him I need to go get the kids to the doctor and deal with the van and ask him if he wants to come. Without hesitation he jumps in the car and we head towards town.

We make a right hand turn out of the gate at Akaloosa Village and immediately notice a crowd of a hundred or so people gathered on the road about fifty yards ahead of us. You don’t have to live here very long to know that a crowd of people on the roadside is rarely a good thing. As we approach, the people move aside and now we are a part of the circle that is continuing to grow. Out of my window, about thirty feet off the dirt road, we see a young girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, sitting on some bricks, at the base of a small tree. Her hands are tied behind her back. Standing over her is a middle-aged man holding a brick above her head about to hit her with it. He is yelling at her and we can’t understand a word he is saying.

Having seen quite a few mob justice situations in our time here it was quickly clear that this girl had done something this man deemed punishable by death. Those in the crowd either, 1. Agreed, 2. Were passive bystanders with no opinion watching the drama unfold, or 3. Disagreed with the punishment being levied upon her, but were driven by fear, or felt powerless, to intervene. I was in the 3^rd camp, but knew I needed to do something. One of our staff members, Waswa, happened to walk up at the same time. At a loss of what to do next I just started asking Waswa, “What did this girl do?” He said he didn’t know. I continue to ask him anyways, making my voice louder and louder. At this point all eyes are on me, including the girl and the man with the brick. My questioning turns toward the man with the brick, “What did this girl do?” I doubt he understood my English, but he definitely understood my tone. My heart was pounding and I am wondering what I will do if that man either doesn’t put the brick down, or turns the brick on me as often happens to those involving themselves in situations like these. I continue to ask him over and over again, “What did this girl do?”. The people continue to stare.

I can’t put into words the look on the face of the young girl. Head down, eyes staring up at me, no fight left in her, hopeless, and resigned to the fact that this is how her life will end. The man? Mostly just stunned that someone has interrupted his courtroom in which he has made himself judge, jury and executioner. As the clock seemed to stand still the motionless staring from the man left me praying, “God what am I supposed to do now?” Then almost as if God commanded the man to release the girl, he did. He dropped the brick, untied the girl and she took off running. Some of the crowd took to a foot pursuit, but quickly they gave up as she disappeared into the village. Then not 30 seconds later the crowd dispersed and all seemed as if nothing had happened. Larry and I looked at each other in shock asking, “What just happened?” “I think we saved that girls life.” “I think you are right.”

We continued up the road a bit stunned at the events we happened upon. How do you move on from that? We then start asking questions. Questions like:

–       What if we hadn’t have happened upon that situation?

–       Was that guy really going to kill her?

–       Had he done this before?

–       What did she do that caused him to decide that her death was the best way to resolve the issue?

–       What was it that made him put the brick down and untie her?

–       How come no one in the crowd was willing to intervene?

–       Where did she run to?

–       What was her name?

I still find myself asking those questions, unfortunately with few answers. What I do know is that somehow we were used and all we did was show up and say something. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, but when love and justice show up in a situation there can’t help but be some change. It might not be visible and it might not be the outcome you desire, but the love and justice of Jesus showing up in you will always bring about transformation, either now or later. Do I always show up and not allow fear to keep from speaking or acting? No, unfortunately not, but hopefully I am doing it more today than I did yesterday.

The kids and the van? We took them safely to the hospital for their appointments and the van was fixed by the time we got back to it. A traveling mechanic fixed it – broken oil line – $5.