Amy Medina

*Note added 11/20/15:  Please be assured that my intentions were not to make a political statement as to what the U.S. government should do about the refugee crisis.  I only want Christians to think about our reaction to the “dangerous” people and places in our society that we often try to avoid.  

A couple years ago, the U.S. postal service came out with a series of stamps showing children in active activities.  They never went to print.  Why, you ask?  Because many of the children on the stamps were participating in “dangerous activities.”  Look carefully:  No helmets, no knee pads, and [gasp!] one child is even doing a cannonball.

We are a culture that is obsessed with safety.

Is the house I am buying in a safe neighborhood?

Is my child’s school safe?

Are vaccines safe?  Pesticides?

Will less guns make us safe?  Or more guns?

Prayer meetings are often dominated by requests for safety in traveling.  We spend hours researching the safest car seat, baby monitor, and crib.  We always buckle.  These aren’t necessarily bad things.

Until this obsession gets into the way of obeying God.

What happens when God breaks your heart for the low-income neighborhood in your city?

What about when your firstborn child is called to be a missionary in Iraq?  Or Afghanistan?  Or North Korea?

What about when that unseemly neighbor wants her kids to come over and play?

Or how about something as simple as finding out that 10,000 Syrian refugees are being sent to your city?

It’s ironic that two months ago, when a drowned toddler was the Face of the Refugee, there was only criticism for those countries who didn’t open their arms wide.  Now, when the Face of the Refugee is a terrorist, those same doors are slamming shut.

I don’t want to make a political statement here.  I realize that the refugee situation is complicated and not easy to solve.  However, I do want to make a Christian statement.

When our love of safety gets in the way of obeying God, we are wrong.

When our love of safety gets in the way of loving people, we are wrong.

When we see the dysfunctional neighbor, the unruly child, the refugee, the Muslim, we should see the face of Jesus.  When we see the low-income neighborhood, the Arab country, the dilapidated house down the street, we should see places to which Jesus would have run.

Yes, we should be safe when we can be.  But as Christians, for the sake of love, we should err on the side of risk.   

Who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?  

To cross the railroad tracks.

To open our homes to the international college student.

To welcome the foster child.

To befriend the woman behind the veil.

To give generously.

To love lavishly.

And be willing to say with Queen Esther,

If I perish, I perish.  

At least 1000 civilians were killed, 1,300 women and girls raped, and 1,600 women and girls abducted between April and September.

A pregnant wife is murdered in her home during a home invasion.

A 62-year-old woman is murdered in her home by her boyfriend.

147 college students are murdered by terrorists.

41 people are murdered by terrorists.

129 people are murdered by terrorists.

Why are some more identifiable than others?  Why do you immediately know what person or place I am referring to with some, and not the others?

Is it because of media bias?

The area of the world where it took place?

Race?

Because some places are just dangerous and so we expect bad things to happen, but others are more newsworthy because they are considered “safe?”

Is it because we can all identify Paris on a map, but not Lebanon, South Sudan, or Kenya?  Is it because we can imagine ourselves hiding from terrorists in a concert hall, but not in a South Sudanese swamp?  Is it because we see ourselves as the murdered pastor’s wife, but not the black girlfriend in Lancaster, California?

Probably.  And that’s not necessarily bad.  We mourn more deeply when the tragedy happens closer to us.  We become more frightened when we can picture it also happening to us.  The attack on Garissa, Kenya affected me more than the attack on Paris, France, because Kenya is right next door to me. The attack on Westgate Mall in Nairobi terrified me more than the attack on Beirut, Lebanon because I have been to that mall myself.  So it wouldn’t be fair for me to be angry with you for caring more about Paris than Garissa just because it touches you more closely.  

But….  In spite of all the (probably) unfair accusations of racism or prejudice that are being thrown around, times like these are great for soul-searching.  Let us not lose the opportunity to grow.

Do we allow only the media to tell us what to pray for?  Do we take the time to look for the people and places who might not be getting the same attention?  I have been convicted to look harder for the ignored stories. Jesus sought out the prostitute, the tax collector, the child.  Even a sparrow does not fall to the ground without his notice. Who do I make the effort to notice?

Support and prayers pour in for wife of Indiana pastor whose pregnant wife was murdered.  No problem with that.  Pray for this family.  But let that grief remind you that many others are murdered, even in America, with no one noticing.  Has anyone looked up the family of the man in Lancaster who just yesterday shot his girlfriend and then himself?  Think they could use some support and prayers?  

Pray for Paris.  But let Paris remind you to pray for Kenya, and Lebanon, and Syria, and South Sudan.  The grief and the terror we feel when we watch the reports of Paris should give us a lot more empathy with the millions of people who live with the threat of terrorism every day.

Perhaps this article says it best:  “Westerners are finally being given just a small taste of the constant fear that people from other nations have endured for generations.  So solidarity with, and compassion for, the French is a good thing.”

And in the meantime, let us not despair, for we serve the God who sees all, and loved us enough to not just watch from a distance.