Come

By Heather Allen –

She grips a fistful of buttons and his small collar. Her face reddens with irritation.

His eyes are dull, his face expressionless.

I hold my breath, ire rising, knuckles clenched. I begin pacing between the racks of clothing, hovering within fifteen feet.

She reeks hatred and lets loose an inch from his face, releasing him with a hard shove.

He trips backward. His face remains impassive.

Mine contorts for him. I’m not strong and she’s bulky. In the moment, it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to stand toe to toe with her. For his sake.

In Your soft, still way You remind me to seek You first, so I walk in circles to the beat of my anger. Trying to calm my shaking legs and queasy stomach. “Beloved, let us love one another.”

“Lord, how? How do I show this woman love?” And in my soul, I know she needs love, not shame. My feelings do not reflect this, but You dwell in me, You are love. I walk toward her.

She raises her hand defensively, palm out.

“I was watching your children play and your daughter tripped, your son did not hurt her,” I say quickly.

She scowls. “I don’t need parenting advice, so bye-bye.”

I want to contradict her, but instead I speak with a bit more authority. “I’m not here to give you advice, but rather a compliment on your child’s behavior. Your son is a great big brother.” My eyes shift down toward his little face. He is still on the floor. “He was kind and concerned when his sister fell, she slipped on a hanger. He merely tried to help her up.”

She stares at me with hard eyes. “He is not your concern.”

I lower my voice. “Actually he is. You both are.”

She stares at me incredulous.

Silence hangs between us. My words feel foreign as I stumble on. She knows it was wrong. God built that into each of us. I look her in the eyes, longing to water her soul.

The sadness is palpable as I turn and walk away. For her. For him. For what an unredeemed future holds. I think of a picture that hung on my Sunday school class’ wall. Jesus, arms extended with children piling on his lap. His words warning the disciples captured at the edge of the frame.

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these” (Mark 10:14 NIV).

In a world of generous wrath, there is a counterpart. A God of generous love.

Christ beckons “Come.” Lay down the anger, and shame. Break chains of habit. Fight the enemy that has taken you captive.

I quietly converse with the store manager and take short, pondered steps to my car.

I thought the perpetrator was the enemy. I was wrong. That woman is not the enemy, Satan is. I think he hopes we will be just angry, offended, and ashamed enough to think there is nothing more for us. No salvation possible, only despair and depravity ahead. I know that is not the case.

I have witnessed a grand resurrection from the dead in my own life. I am a redeemed sinner, charged to help others find their way home.