On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.
“Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
Luke 10:25-29
A certain police officer mentally prepared herself for her day. She smoothed her uniform and checked to see if her hair was neat as she headed out the door.
She couldn’t tell if her nerves were apprehension or anticipation, but there was a noticeable buzzing sensation coursing through her veins as she walked down the sidewalk to take her place at the barricade. She found her breathing shallow and slowed her pace slightly. She would need all her energy today, she was sure.
She thought of her bible study which had met on Zoom the night before and how her pastor had prayed for her protection. She thought of the text from her mom she’d received while she was eating her morning muffin. “Praying for you. Love you! Stay safe,” it read.
She took her place at the barricade. On the other side of the metal and plastic barrier separating her from the crowd, she saw people who looked like her cousins, her friends from high school, random acquaintances she’d added on Facebook. Most looked just like her, but others looked like caricatures. Surely, the capes and hats were jokes.
Her walkie buzzed and a voice started to come through, but it was drowned out by the swell of voices in front of her cheering “USA! USA! USA”
The barriers began to shake. The people pressed rhythmically against them, rocking back and forth. She was taken for a brief moment to a memory of jumping in the waves as a child, exciting and scary, but then the barricade came down, the wave of humanity crashed over top of her. She was knocked back, and stumbled. She watched people rush past her as she lost her balance. She was falling and she instinctively grabbed for her gun. She had to protect her weapon. She couldn’t lose it.
Then, as the back of her head met the curb behind her, everything went black.
The crowd stepped around her. A little further up the walk towards the steps a pastor was praying into a megaphone. He cried out to God for justice. The crowd was drawn in around him and his charismatic tones. “AMEN!” they screamed in response. “Grant us justice, Lord!” as they walked past the officer, lying unconscious on the street.
The pastor noticed, from his high vantage point, the body that the crowd was bypassing to get closer to him. If he yelled into his megaphone, perhaps someone would help that poor person. Then he noticed her police hat. He couldn’t bring attention to an officer right now. He was there for a greater purpose. He was a mouthpiece to preserve righteousness, to protect the innocent, to allow the voices of the unheard to gain traction. Anyway, the police force should have a plan for things like this. Help was probably already on the way. He must stay focused.
He spotted a worship leader that he knew in the crowd. “Lead us in song,” he called out through his megaphone. The worship leader had just bumped into the fallen barriers as she was pushed forwards. She looked to her right and saw the officer laying unconscious. She thought of her sisters at home who’d warned her not to come. They’d told her it was dangerous. She almost stopped, but then she heard that request to lead the crowd in song. Wasn’t this what God had made her for? To lead people in praise songs? The officer’s eyes fluttered and she reached for her head. “She’s coming to. She’ll be ok,” thought the worship leader as she began to sing, “We will overcome! We will overcome!”
Walking against the flow of people was a young man. He moved quickly, head down. He wondered if anyone in the crowd could tell. As the protestors had entered the building, he’d taken anything that identified him as the liberal aide he was and shoved it in his pocket. His rainbow flag tie pin his boyfriend had given him for Christmas was poking him in the thigh. He didn’t have any Black Lives Matter paraphernalia on, but he couldn’t hide his skin. Even though his complexion was light compared to some people he knew, he felt very aware of how much darker he was than pretty much everyone around him. “Get out of here alive,” was all he thought.
Then he saw her.
She looked like the cops who’d stood opposite him and his friends at protests during the summer. She looked like his 8th grade English teacher who never liked him. She looked like someone he’d blocked on social media because she wouldn’t stop replying “All Lives Matter” on all of his posts.
She sat up and started to crawl out of the way, towards the grass. She paused when she reached the edge and heaved her breakfast into the bushes. She reached one hand to her head and used the other to grab the bush in a weak attempt to steady herself.
He knew the signs of a concussion. He was a running back in high school. He could remember getting run over by the defense. This lady didn’t have any pads on.
He crouched down next to her. “Hey sweetie,” he cooed. He felt aware of his own voice, which did not sound manly enough for the crowd of marauding vikings so close by. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice a little, like he used to in the locker room. “Let’s get you up. You need help. Can you stand?” He put her arm around his shoulder and started to lift her up, but she cried out.
He knew if he did get her up, he wouldn’t be able to walk her all the way to the hospital. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the call button on her walkie talkie. A voice came through and he replied, “Officer down. Back up requested.” He gave a location and then felt panic rise in his chest. He didn’t want to be anywhere near there when back up arrived. He didn’t want to have his hands on an injured cop. He was about to tell her that she’d be ok, help was on the way, when she grabbed his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, “Don’t leave me.” She swayed again and he caught her.
She began to pray to herself, but she murmured the name of Jesus audibly. He was troubled as he thought of the “Jesus Saves” signs he’d passed as he’d tried to escape this madness. His mom was a Christian. She talked about Jesus all the time. But this? He looked around as he waited with her for help to arrive.
Who is this Jesus that this cop prays to?
Who is this Jesus that the crowd cries out to?
Where was the Jesus his mother preached to him about?
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor
to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”
Luke 10:36-37
I am still processing the events that I have seen take place over the past month.
This is part of that processing for me.
I am praying that I would see our country, our world and the Church more like Christ sees them.
Will you pray for me?
Will you pray with me?
Sarah Kinzer 