Photograph by Manu Brabo for The Wall Street Journal
Take a minute and look around you. Take inventory of the things that fill your home. The drawers, the cupboards, the walls. Your closets. Your crawlspace or attic. Your outbuildings. Your yard. Your porch. Your garage. Things you have been given, some generational treasures, and you are the current guardian. Things you have worked for, or are working to pay off.
Think about those you love.
Don't just read that and go on reading.
Pause.
Bring their faces to mind.
Name them, one by one.
Now imagine that someone wants what is yours.
They hint at aggression.
You watch and recognize the signs.
They are ready to move from threats to action.
You know, without a doubt, it's going to get ugly.
Maybe you have the luxury of deciding whether you are going to stay or flee, but what about those you love who don't have that freedom? Maybe it's a lack of resources or a health concern that removes the option of leaving. Perhaps a commitment that can't be broken tethers you or loved ones to the hot spot. If you have a choice, how do you stay, knowing injury or death is likely? If you can "get out of Dodge", how do you leave those you love who are staying, people you've built deep relationships with? If you stay and fight to protect what is yours and theirs, how do you choose whether your family stays with you or travels to a safer place? If you send them on, what do you say as they leave, not knowing when or if you will see them again?
Put yourself in this scenario: You wrestle and pray and discuss with wise advisors and come to the conclusion you should leave. You have 24 hours to make arrangements and pack. You have a large suitcase or two you can fill, and one carry on for each person in your family. Remember all that stuff that fills your home? How do you decide what to take and what to leave behind, not knowing how long you will be gone. Beyond grieving the the things and home you are forced to leave, what do you do with the anger that you are forced to leave? What do you do with the concern, the fears, the innate desire to protect and provide for those you love who choose to stay or are unable to leave?
Putting yourself in their shoes may be uncomfortable, but it's a start toward understanding, deeper compassion and genuine empathy.
If you are a Jesus follower God's instructions are plain:
Romans 12:9-21
"Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord.Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all.If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.”Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
If you have "skin in the game", you may feel like I do: I cannot do this on my own strength. I can only obey this teaching when I rely on God's Spirit to give me strength to do so. Past experience has taught me that I can trust God, so to not obey is not a wise or viable option for me. I am very thankful that feeling like doing it isn't a prerequisite for doing what is right in God's eyes. It's a choice.
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