The image of the drowned three year Syrian boy reminded me of a devotion I gave in church some sis years ago on the same day. It seems that suffering is an ongoing reality of our age that leaves us wondering why. And certainly that question must be asked and never ignored as long as one person suffers in this world. But that doesn't mean that we also shouldn't ask, where is hope or what is our response? These questions, too are important.
Last week thousands camped in tents in southwestern China on Saturday after a magnitude-6.0 earthquake destroyed thousands of homes, killed one person and injured 320, state media reported.
At the epicenter of Thursday's quake in Yao'an county, nearly 22,000 people took shelter in some 3,000 tents, and emergency crews rushed in quilts, rice, cooking oil and other supplies, the official Xinhua News Agency said.
The quake displaced some 250,000 people. Yunnan is part of a quake-prone region bordered on the north by Sichuan province, where a magnitude-7.9 quake last year left almost 90,000 people dead or missing.
In 1988, a magnitude-7.1 quake in Yunnan near Myanmar killed 930 people. More than 15,000 people died after a magnitude-7.7 quake in the province in 1970.
What is our coping
strategy when we see so much suffering in the world? I don’t know about you, but sometimes when
the numbers get so big and the country is so far away, it leaves me numb.
It reminds me of a
story told by the author Phyllis Wheatley, that once in 2001 she was visiting a
spiritual friend who had constructed and established multiple orphanages and
schools in India.
When she mentioned to him about a devastating earthquake in
India that had occurred that year where many had died or were left to suffer
unbearable conditions.
His reply to her was,
“I can’t deal with it or even
think about it. It is just one more
overwhelming devastation visited upon a third-world country.”
So often when we are bombarded with suffering we shut
down. We turn away and try to get on
with our own lives.
But that is not what Jesus does. And I probably could have picked a hundred
stories from scripture that highlight this, but I chose this week, one that
deals with children, since we are in the midst of Music Camp this week.
Mark 10:13-16
People were bringing little children to him in order that he
might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was
indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop
them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.Truly I tell
you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never
enter it.’ And he took them up in
his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
Jesus was always
saying come to me. He was always
gathering up the suffering of the world into his arms, always turning to
it. He was always compassionate.
He knew that compassion was the answer to any tragedy, no
matter how big or how small.
In his gathering of the children, in his healing of the sick
and demon possessed he was bearing witness to the suffering of the world and to
the promise and hope that his redeeming love has for the world through his
Kingdom.
How we respond to suffering can be shaped by Jesus. We can feel hopeless or overwhelmed – we can
turn away and just live the best we can.
Or we can turn toward that suffering and bear witness to
it. Acknowledge its existence. It might
not seem much, but in doing so we are not hiding from the reality of the
suffering of others or that perhaps Jesus is in the midst saying to those who
are suffering come to me.
One way is through
our prayers. To bear witness to the
reality of the world and its suffering.
Since it is music camp this week and we have so many children
on our campus during the day, I thought I would share a prayer with you written
by Ina Hughes that bears witness to the reality of our children today.
A Prayer for the
Children… by Ina J. Hughes
We pray for the
children who put chocolate fingers everywhere, who like to be tickled, who
stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants, who sneak Popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks, who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who’ve never squeaked across the floor in new sneakers, who never had crayons to count, who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead, who never go to the circus, who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish, who give hugs in a hurry and forget their lunch money, who cover themselves with Band-Aids and sing off-key, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those who never get dessert, who watch their parents watch them die, who have no safe blanket to drag behind, who can’t find any bread to steal, who don’t have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser, whose monsters are real.
We pray for children who spend all their allowance before Tuesday, who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food, who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed, who never rinse out the tub, who get visits from the tooth fairy, who don't like to be kissed in front of the school, who squirm in church or temple or mosque and scream in the phone, whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those whose nightmares come in the daytime, who will eat anything, who aren't spoiled by anybody, who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep, who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried, and for those who must. For those we never give up on, and for those who never get a chance. For those we smother with our love, and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it. Amen.
And we pray for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who’ve never squeaked across the floor in new sneakers, who never had crayons to count, who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead, who never go to the circus, who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish, who give hugs in a hurry and forget their lunch money, who cover themselves with Band-Aids and sing off-key, who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink, who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those who never get dessert, who watch their parents watch them die, who have no safe blanket to drag behind, who can’t find any bread to steal, who don’t have any rooms to clean up, whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser, whose monsters are real.
We pray for children who spend all their allowance before Tuesday, who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food, who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed, who never rinse out the tub, who get visits from the tooth fairy, who don't like to be kissed in front of the school, who squirm in church or temple or mosque and scream in the phone, whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those whose nightmares come in the daytime, who will eat anything, who aren't spoiled by anybody, who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep, who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried, and for those who must. For those we never give up on, and for those who never get a chance. For those we smother with our love, and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it. Amen.
