Loss...

(Written across the time span of 12/10/17-2/5/18)

I was on edge at church today,

The first Sunday after finding out a man,

who used to sit in these pews, was a long-term

child molesting, Mennonite missionary,

who came to this country, grooming young boys

for later sexual exploits.

My eyes kept shifting through the pews;

my peripheral didn’t stop performing.

You know they always say child molesters

don’t always look like glassy eyed old men who give you

the creeps; you can’t dismiss warnings

because “She doesn’t look like a child abuser” or

“He doesn’t look like…”

Monday’s news of the foreign missionary’s

exploits, was a sucker-punch because

“He always looked like such a kind, gentle, reserved guy,”

says my conscience. “How?!”

I couldn’t feel at home in church today,

and I didn’t feel safe at church today.

A row of probably orphans sit behind us in the pews.

Three white people are interspersed among them.

One is a young teenage girl,

whose behavior seems surprisingly strict,

whose touch (although culturally appropriate)

seems too familiar on the backs and arms of

the children next to her.

My potential accusations sound deplorable and offensive—

even to me,

so, I’ll let them rest there.

But I’m sitting in my place of worship,

surrounded by unfamiliar white faces

who inevitably visit with a flock of young orphans.

And my husband came home from work just last Monday

sharing the despicable news with me.

I couldn’t believe what I heard, the picture identifying the accused,

as my husband relayed the story in a distraught and heartbroken tone.

What level hurts the most? I’m trying to identify it.

Was it that one of the children targeted was a five-year-old

pastor’s son?

Was it that there were over 20 young boys targeted—

forever scarred, damaged irrevocably

in their naivest hours, in their childhood innocence?

Is it that this happens every day, in every city, in every

part of the world?

Is it because the accused “didn’t look evil”?

Is it that the perpetrator was a do-gooder missionary—

financed by well-meaning, oblivious Christians?

Is it that he is Mennonite, and I have such high hopes

(both in my lineage and experience) for this sect?

Is it because he is a foreigner to this country,

an American “god” who betrayed those who took him in?

Is it because I am an American foreigner,

and I can’t imagine how he felt the right to

cause such destruction in a home that he was a guest in?

I am left with the agitations of my

heart, mind, soul,

and I feel anger…disgust…fury.

I am stirred up and unsettled.

And something must be done.

To mar a child in this unforgiveable way

is to mock that which is right and pure in this

temporary realm.

It is ill-gotten, loathsome, sick

perversion,

in which a twisted fulfillment is found.

It is to gain pleasure through

a young child’s corruption.

It cannot be undone.

The consequences and justice are heavy—the

penalty clear to all God-fearing ones.

The Pure One who is Righteousness, Love,

Justice, Mercy, Grace, Holiness, Peace embodied,

declared, in human form:

“And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones

that believe in me, it is better for him

that a millstone were hanged about his neck,

and he were cast into the sea.”

(Mark 9:42, KJV)

Although I am hung up on these words,

and tempted to march all over

perpetrators with them,

Holding onto unforgiveness,

I can’t deny the conviction the same

Leader proclaimed to me, an imperfect

one, just like the rest:

“Let him who is without sin among you

be the first to throw a stone at her.” (John 8:7 ESV)

And my heart churns inside at the tension this

uncovers:

that justice is due, 
yet judgment is not mine to give.