“Tell me that I’m not forgotten. Show me there’s a God who can be more than all I’ve ever wanted. … Tell me something that might save my life.” Sidewalk Prophets’ “Save My Life”
“Did you read the paper?” my husband asked. I knew from the tone of his voice there would be bad news. I picked up the front section from the kitchen table and, sure enough, there the story was. A young mother had been bludgeoned to death, police discovering not only her body but her crying toddler.
“Probably drugs,” my pre-caffeinated, lacking-in-compassion self replied. After all, West Virginia is the belly of the beast when it comes to opioid-use deaths. Drug-related deaths naturally follow that kind of money. “Drugs or sex,” I continued. “Maybe both.”
My husband had a kinder view. “Whatever it was, no doubt there’s a long, complicated and sad story behind it.”
Ouch! How could I be so merciless — and all before 7:30 a.m.?
He was right. That mother, that killer, that toddler were and are made in the image of God. No matter how they arrived at such a horrific point, there was (for the dead) and is (for the living) the opportunity for someone to somehow intervene or at least intercede with God on their behalf.
I pray I can be that kind of stand-in-the-gap believer next time. The world already has more than enough accusers.