Love Always Protects

Love your neighbor as yourself...Do unto others as you would have them do unto you...Let us love not in word but in action and in truth...Biblical passages many of us know and can recite by heart (or should be able to!)  "And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, yes, they'll know we are Christians by our love" the familiar campfire song goes. But how easy is it?

Earlier this week I was in Newark for meetings. I had a little break and decided to get out of the building and off property, as I like to do.  I drove around the block and parked on a side street to check phone messages and non-work emails, etc. As I sat there, I noticed a man kinda shuffling down the street and yapping to himself. In about 2 seconds I assessed him as probably "crazy" and I turned off the radio so I could hear what he was saying, as I had my window down. I couldn't understand him but he encountered another man who was about to enter a building right next to my car. They engaged in conversation. I couldn't quite hear what they were saying but it seemed clear that the crazy guy wanted something from the man about to enter the building. The conversation ended and the man entered the building, leaving the crazy man about 6 yards from my car, standing at the door of the building of which he could not enter.

The crazy guy began to pound on the door. He began shouting. He wasn't making sense but I heard a few curse words here and there. He clearly wanted to get inside for whatever reason. He went on for about 30 seconds.

Suddenly the door burst open and the other man came out. In a split second I could tell that the mood had shifted and my heartbeat began to pound. The man yoked up the crazy guy and I saw him draw his fist back. I heard a voice in my head clear as day say, "Don't look", and I turned my head to the side as I heard the crazy guy get a serious beating. I didn't watch, but I heard every crunch, slam, and mush of fist on skin and bone. My heart kept pounding. It was, in a word, traumatic.

After a bit of quiet, I peeked and saw the crazy guy laying in the middle of the street. The other guy went back inside the building. About 15-20 people from the neighborhood stood in various positions just watching. They saw the crazy guy laying there. Likely they saw me too since I was right there.

Slowly, the local folks came over. They helped the guy up. One of them picked up something I initially thought was a knife or a gun but it turned out to be the crazy guy's glasses and handed them to him. They all took a few steps down the street and made a large huddle on the corner. And I sat there.

I sat there. I sat there in my car and did nothing. Granted, I was assessing the situation but I was scared to death. I thought, "What should I do?" The Christian in me screamed, "Do something!?"

Should I get out? Should I have gotten out to stop the fight? Should I call 911? Should I see if the guy was all right? Was someone else calling the police and should I hang around to give a statement?

And there I sat. Watching. Doing nothing. The crowd talked among themselves. They saw me sitting there, a lone white lady in her SUV...doing nothing. That made me more afraid to even get out of the car.

I waited a few minutes. Then I drove back to work. I made some donor calls. I did some busy work. Then I met with my supervisor and unraveled. I told her what I had experienced and how utterly ashamed I was of doing absolutely nothing. She offered some words of logic and comfort. And then we had our meeting.

Later on driving home I called Mom and shared the story, utterly ashamed again. I told her I needed another Christian's perspective and she gave it from the best of her ability. I cried.

Next morning I asked the Lord for something--a sign, a comfort, an affirmation, that what I did (or failed to do) was okay. The devotional passage of the day was 1 Corinthians 13. The line, "Love always protects" stung like you wouldn't believe. What did I do to protect my neighbor? Nothing.

I shared with Mark before rushing off to work. He heard all the angles and wasn't able to offer much of anything besides head nods and affirmations to the variety of things I was feelings, which was enough for me.  I went to my first meeting of the day and during our "check in" shared the story again to my team so they would know why I was a little "off". I cried again (which I HATE to do at work). At the conclusion of our meeting our site director commented that "Jen has shown us that to do nothing is sometimes the best thing", whatever that was supposed to mean. Shame hung on me all day, like a dirty cloak I couldn't get rid of. On the way home I asked the Lord to forgive me for doing nothing and sobbed in my car.

I continued to debrief in my mind and heart. What could I have done? How wise would it have been to jump in the middle of 2 men fighting? NOT...Who knew if a knife or a gun would be drawn? What was I going to do, pull 2 guy apart? Um, no. Others came to help the crazy guy...did I need to get out and help? Probably not...The crazy guy ended up walking away on his own. Should I have called the cops? Experience has taught me that that would not have been wise, at least in that neighborhood. Culture ruled that. And honestly, that made me mad also. Mad that all the stereotypes I try so hard to get my kids to overcome were solidified one again in a 5 minute time frame=dangerous inner city, fighting among minorities, don't snitch, etc. I hated it. I still do.

Was I the Levite that passed the man beaten on the side of the road? I felt that way for sure. I "should"ed on myself for 2 days. What kind of Christian was I? What a witness I could have been to the people of that neighborhood that some white lady got out of her car to help a crazy black guy that had just been beaten? No...I sat and did nothing. I asked my site director what he meant by his statement and he said that studies have shown that in situations like that the best thing to do is nothing. Really? But what about Christians? That was someone's child! Someone's friend! What if it had been in my neighborhood--would I have reacted differently? What if it had been a women beating her child? Would I have said/done anything? Was it a racial thing? A safety thing? An "I-don't-have-time-for-this" thing?

But...but...on the third day, as I continued to wrestle with this, a thought occurred to me (or perhaps a message from the Spirit). I heard "that voice" clear as day in my head that said, "Don't look". Was that the Holy Spirit? Was God, in His love, protecting ME from images of a brutal beat down that, if I had watched, would continue to plague my mind? I heard it, but I didn't see it. I see a fist pulling back but that's it. So part of me wonders if "love always protects" was there to protect me that day for some reason. Part of me still feels like I should have done something...but I'm thankful that at least "love" protected me from being some kind of renegade Samaritan that ended up doing more harm than good...at least I'd like to think so.