SUNDAY, JANUARY 15, 2012
I don’t cry much, but when I feel helpless, I cry. This evening, I cried.
I walked out of Jeff and Sonda’s apartment building after a refreshing and uplifting talk with Sonda (My matronly Chinese-Aunt-but-not-really-Chinese-nor-actually-my-aunt-because-she-is-from-Oklahoma-but-we-met-in-China) to walk to the bus stop to head back to my apartment. As I stood on the corner of the lightly treaded street, I saw on the corner across from me a man beating a woman. I looked around to see what the other people around were going to do, specifically the male passerbys, but no one did anything. I was appalled; I ran across the street, walked up to him and from a place deep in my chest and far too baritone to be a girly scream shouted at him with a burly “HEY!” I stared at him from about three feet away as he kept his grasp on her, then he dropped something and let her go to pick it up.
I was hoping that my mere presence and lack of fear would deter him and send him off, but it was clear that their relationship went deeper. As I still stared, enraged, like a dog protecting his master, not stepping back for an instant, he just looked at me, angry, but shocked very briefly before he grabbed her by the neck again and dragged her down the street.
My immediate reaction was to call 911… but there was no 911 and even if I could get ahold of the police, they probably wouldn’t speak English. So I followed their quick pace dialing my Chinese friend to ask for help. No answer. I called my other friend who is seeking to serve women in China who has been here for a few years. No answer.
They turned a familiar corner, which happened to be the way to my bus stop and I followed. I saw a guard in the nearby parking lot and ran up to him, pointing to them, speaking in English “Police” “Man beating woman” “Help” and mocked the motions of punching someone in the face. He shook his head and pointed to the building across the way with the open door. I quickly looked up to notice I was losing them and ran desperately into the open door. “Do you speak English?” I frantically shouted and with seeming incomprehension, the guard said “No.”
I kept running in the direction they went but when I turned the next corner, they were gone. There were so many turns they could have taken, buildings to enter, buses to jump on. There were other people around. They were gone, camouflaged in the crowd. I crossed the street, looking between the buildings to no avail. Just then, my Chinese friend called me back. I answered and told her what had happened and how I didn’t know what to do; though she was concerned about me, she made it very clear that in China, the police would do nothing to interfere in domestic problems. “You’re not in America anymore.” Her words were honest, yet filled with compassion for me. She said that in China, if someone is laying on the ground, no one will do anything to help. “It’s just China. It’s the way it is… Are you crying?” she asked. I broke.
“Well sort of” I replied and my voice cracked. I crouched to the ground against the building crying as I talked to her. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. In no place is it okay for a man to beat a woman in the face and then drag her down the street by her neck. I don’t care what country I’m in.”
I got up and when we got off the phone, I decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. I was shaking and crying and needed to be free. It wasn’t that far and I take the walk all the time. It was barely dusk, still visibly light and beginning to rain harder. I was disturbed and cried for several minutes as I walked down the sidewalk getting more and more wet.
The cold rain mixed with the warm tears until I was no longer crying, just emotionally numb. The walk was about thirty minutes and I did a lot of thinking. Suddenly I was more angry and filled with regret. I wish I beat the crap out of him, I thought over and over again. He was a wee little man. I could have taken him. I really didn’t care if in response, I got punched, kicked, slapped, stabbed, or thrown into the street (but not shot. I pondered his possible weaponry before approaching him, remembering he likely had no weapons or at least no guns… according to Chinese custom. It was a consideration. It just passed very quickly). I just wished I got one jab in. I wished she could have seen a woman saying no. Then I thought, I know that is not what God would want me to do. And still, I had wished I had done it. My flesh cried for justice.
Towards the end of the walk, I decided that I just needed to pray for them. Maybe no one had ever stood up for that woman before and maybe she will never forget that I did. I prayed that God would use that experience to make a change in her… and him too, though my compassion was centered on her. I guess I just have to accept that I can’t change the world with my flesh, but with my prayers, God will change hearts.
I met with the ladies from my fellowship for coffee. We interceeded over our plans to start serving women of the night-- so to speak. We went over plans for me and Sonda to begin an ESL study of the Word. We went over plans for the fellowship band to go on tour. We went over plans for the Women's fellowship to begin an intercession team for the many functions. I was asked to head up that team. I accepted. Many of His puzzle pieces came together on Tuesday night.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 19, 2012
It’s so hard. Hearing the shrill screams through the thin walls of my apartment. I live in a nice place even, not expected. Not knowing which apartment they are coming from or if they are even coming from an apartment. Maybe they are coming from the ground, thirteen floors down. A male screams. A woman screams. She weeps. He weeps. Or does he mock her? I can’t tell. It goes on for fifteen minutes.
The emotions I go through are overwhelming. I go to each wall and window, listening for sound, trying to determine its source. It’s impossible to tell. Has someone just received news that a loved one died? Is there a screaming match beyond anything I have ever witnessed? Is there a wild beating occurring? Is there any help? There is no one to call, at least for me. No one to tell. No one who BOTH could and would intervene because it’s domestic and the laws are different here, at least the extent to which they are followed is different.
It’s not the first time I have heard this. I must have forgotten before, but as soon as the weeping and screaming began, I knew it wasn’t the first time I had heard it. I prayed the blood of the Son over the family in trouble. The noise softened. I became calm.
Again, tonight, I felt helpless, completely with nothing to do to help except pray. Really, isn’t that all we really have? We can intervene in people’s lives to help them, but we can’t change them. In the end, our prayers are what counts. Perhaps rather than seeing this as the only thing I can do, I should see this as the one thing I must do, first, always.
Perhaps there is no other believer in this apartment building. Perhaps there is no other believer in this apartment complex. Here, it is very likely. Perhaps, I just need to pray.
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This has been an amazing week despite the things I have witnessed. I am being shown where the need is so that I can serve. More on that soon…
I have witnessed this very thing in Thailand with the police looking on. It is a helpless feeling to think there is no help, even when there is "help' standing right there watching every blow to another person's body. I remember when I was in the US this past fall and I saw a police man, I wanted to run up to him and hug him and say, "thank you". I felt safe just at the sight of him. People don't know what it is to not feel safe, like anyone can do anything they want to you and there is no help. When you see this done to someone else with others looking on and doing nothing, you learn G*d is your only help in trouble, it makes you want to fall on your face and thank Him for His loving care. Where cometh my help, my help cometh from the L*rd!
ReplyDeleteI know that must have been so difficult to watch. I'm just grateful that you are physically ok. I've often had circumstances when I've thought "is all I can do - pray?" And then a still small voice inside me says there is nothing small about prayer. If we belive we serve the Most High and Most Powerful then intercessory prayer is the most powerful thing we can do. He is all powerful and even when we can't see Him, He is working.
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