This happens all the time. Governments kill their people. But most of the time, we say nothing.
Think whatever you want to think, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the effects of genocide. I’ve seen mass graves. I’ve seen rooms filled with the bones of people who died at the hands of their own government. I’ve seen the dull ache of powerlessness in the eyes of the bereft – and the fire in the eyes of those whose grief has transformed to hatred. I’ve even looked through photo albums – smiling as I hear about family members – a first girlfriend – special memories – and then – how the government killed each of them.
And now I hear news – from Malik – from Christina – from Irina – from Heather – that it’s happening again. It started in June and it’s still going on. Real bombs are really dropping on real people. And people I love are feeling the effects of the violence – as they get word that an uncle – a niece – a father has died. Dead. At the hands of their own government.
Will I be silent while this goes on?
I couldn’t be silent and pretend that I care. I couldn’t be silent and say that I love them. I couldn’t silently grieve.
So, I dial 202-456-1111 and wait for a White House aid to take my call. And I listen to my faltering voice as I recount to her the stories I’ve been told in emails and Facebook messages these past months. And I ask her to remind the President that genocide is still happening. Real people. Really targeted. Real bombs dropped from planes – planes really sent by their own leaders. Lives destroyed in a faraway pocket of earth. And then she thanks me for my call and says she will tell the President.
And I wonder if the President is even able to do anything that will help. He’s just a man, like I’m just a woman. But maybe he will care. And maybe he will call someone who can intervene. Or maybe together with others he will use his influence to cry for justice. And maybe violence can stop. Maybe this evil government will relent… maybe lives can be lived again in peace and quiet… maybe.
But I knew before I called, and I know now, that no President on earth can achieve lasting change unless hearts are made right before God. And, because of Jesus, I remember my place before the highest court in heaven is secure. So, I fall on the floor with tears before the God of all things and plead the blood of Jesus over lives that He loves more than I love.
What will you do now that you know? Love looks like something.