"Hear the causes between your brethren, and judge righteously between every man and his brother, and the stranger that is with him." -Deuteronomy 1:16
We see a teenage boy sitting in a police station. He has scars on his face, baggy clothes, and dirt on his knees. He also has chains cuffed around his wrists. He's sixteen years old. We overhear that he got caught stealing from a convenient store. One may say "Look what an awful child he must be, breaking the law. He deserves what he gets", but do we ever ask ourselves how he got there? Why he was stealing or how he got those scars? No. We simply jump to the conclusion that he must be an awful child. We assume he got those scars on his face in a fight. We figure he got so dirty while he was trying to run. He's wearing baggy clothes and his hair is not brushed, he must be a thug.
We're wrong. The scars on his face came from his father. Every day he beat the boy mercilessly for no reason other than because he could until the day the boy ran away from home. His clothes are baggy because that's all he could find. He's homeless and can't afford clothes his size. His clothes are covered with the dirt from the ground in the park. It's where he sleeps. He didn't have any family other than his abusive father, so he had no place to go. He got where he was when we saw him by stealing bread, only one loaf, because he's starving. He can't remember the last time he had a real meal.
This child, abandoned by the world, only wanted to live and be loved. And what did we do? Instead of taking the time to hear his story, to even ask him why he did what he did, we call him a problem child. A criminal. We turn our back on him just like everyone else has. This is the world we live in. We judge before we know. We label before we ask. We take so many things for granted. If you were in the boys shoes, beaten, starving, and alone, how would you see him then?
Have you ever woken up cold because your family didn't have power to heat the house? Have you ever looked in your kitchen and not just seen food you didn't feel like eating but no food at all? Have you ever been tired and realized that you didn't have a place to lay your head? I have.
We take so many things in our daily lives for granted, and we never fully appreciate them until they're gone. We complain that we don't have the food we're wanting at the time we're hungry, but we don't think that somewhere in the world someone is starving to death. We complan that our well heated house isn't as warm as we'd like it to be while someone in the world is freezing to death. We complain that our roof leaks water when it rains heavily while someone in the world can't remember the last time they slept with a roof over their head. We could all do well from taking a moment to appreciate the things we have instead of constantly worrying about the things we don't.
For me, my most under appreciated thing was a bed of my own. In the year 2010, I moved thirteen times. Most times, I slept on a couch. I was a guest, a stray. I never knew how long I'd be welcome. I always felt like I didn't belong. When I hit the bottom of my rope, I began to miss having a place to call home. All I wanted in the world was a bed of my own. This is how I grew empathetic of people with few things. I began to appreciate that which I didn't have.
Some nineteen year old girls want a fancy car, some want new clothes, some want the cute boy they saw at the mall to notice them. All I wanted was stability. I wanted a place to go where I didn't feel like just a guest on the couch. I wanted to not have to worry about if I was imposing on anyone or not. I wanted to feel wanted. But above all other things, I wanted a bedroom of my own. A room with my own bed, my own blankets. A room where I got to decide how to organize it. I had lived out of a gym bag for over a year. I just wanted a place to unpack my things. A room with nothing in it but things that were mine, not a storage room with a bed thrown in.
Every time I moved to a new couch, for the first night, I cried myself to sleep. Sometimes the crying lasted the first few weeks. I had a room with a bed to sleep in at a few of the many places I stayed, but they were never mine. They were borrowed, filled with someone elses things while all my belongings filled three gray storage boxes in the corner. When I finally came to a stable home with a bed and bedroom of my own, the first time I slept in it I was so happy that I couldn't stop crying.
We're quick to judge those around us who seem to be less fortunate than ourselves, but we're slow to do anything to help them. Next time you see someone in a situation like the boy in the police station, instead of judging them, talk to them. Take the time to learn their name. Kindness is a powerful tool. With enough of it, you can change someones life.
"And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." -1 Corinthians 13:13





