Heroes, Crime, and Duty: A Mother’s Prayer of Repentence

My cousin is one of my heroes. I’m not exaggerating. I mean it. She is employed as a prosecutor for the state of Virginia.

Unless you’re an attorney (or married to one) you glossed over that last sentence, so let me spell it out for you.

She spends her days thinking about scum.

There are filthy, horrible people in this world, and we all want them to be punished. Well, in order for anyone to be punished, first, someone (noble) has to plod through grisly details of crimes and rapes and child abuse acts.

Someone has to scrutinize sins and evil (stop to eat a sandwich), decide what constitutes illicit activity, look at photos of murder victims, study behavior of rapists, and thieves, and look hardened killers in the eye.

Until very recently, I honestly believed that to my cousin, this all was fun. Or tolerable. Or at least, different (than it would feel for me).

See, I’ve been putting my attorney cousin in the same category as I lump soldiers, policemen, missionaries, Bible smugglers, parents who adopt special needs…

They’re different than me. The hard things aren’t as hard for them. They’re wired different.

Maybe.

But maybe not.

Maybe they’re not different kinds of people.

Maybe they wince, and don’t like it, and feel scared and lonely and dread getting up in the morning. Maybe nothing at all separates them from me…except for that obvious thing.

Duty.

“Duty (n.): obligation, refers to what one feels bound to do.”

It’s a weird-sounding word to me. There hasn’t been much “duty” around here. I live free. I enjoy my life. I choose what to do largely based on personal pleasure. I hate to admit it, but I do.

It’s been a horrible unsettling question to try to muffle inside: What’s my “duty”? Am I missing something I’m obligated to do?

Now don’t get me wrong – I live free, and under grace. As a Christian, I believe that I receive heaven and every blessing just because of Christ’s work, not mine. But still I wonder…

Is the calling of, “American, middle-class, Target-going, sit-back-and-blog-about-it, well-dressed woman” really a calling?

Or am I missing something?

I think again at the heroes I know.  Duty’s never easy.

My father-in-law, who spent months at a time cramped in a ship, away from his family, waging a war against evil three continents over.

A family we know – a young family, like ours. Saturdays aren’t spent with soccer or movies...they’re ministering to poor refugees in run-down city streets. The whole family, babies and all.

My friend Kelly – eight months pregnant and still delivering Meals on Wheels, and always ready to take three meals frozen and one steaming to anyone who needs it.

What if I’ve exempted myself, yet duty remains?

There are certainly times when being a mom is all you can do. And it’s important; I get that.

But I know that I know that my time is now.

God, show me my mission.

Give me grace to do something hard, for ones who need me. Give me grace to not be the rich young ruler, and walk away sad.

Remind me there never is a good time, and if it were me hungry, or abused, or homeless, I’d want them to come running.

Help me start serving somehow, so my kids can see.

Remind me that my heroes are real people –  they need prayer and sometimes a note to hang in there.

Let me not fear duty that comes from you, and be a good and faithful servant.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

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