A number of images are flashing through my mind as I sit in a "common" coffee shop in Waco, TX this afternoon (my fellow Texans and coffee addicts can guess to which eclectic couch-filled cafe I refer).
If anyone has spoken with me or followed me on any sort of social media in the last month, they will not be surprised that one of the images in my mind is Fantine, played by Anne Hathaway, singing "I Dreamed A Dream" in Les Miserables. I will post some of the lyrics here for those that have missed out on this film or have forgotten the words of this song sung by a woman hopeless, abused, and ashamed of her new life as a prostitute.
//
There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong
I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving
Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame
//
The beauty of the theater is that we as the audience are not limited by words in our comprehension of the depth of the emotion expressed. Thus, this scene, showing emotion through both physical and vocal expression, has an incredible power.
What strikes me now, though, is that so many who sat in theaters moved to tears by this scene have never shed a tear for a modern-day prostitute, either enslaved or there by choice. Fantine is a voice in a musical, a piece of history, a woman uniquely arrived at a most unfortunate situation. The problem with this mindset is that our tears are left in movie theaters, and we turn our backs on women today who are daily driven to the sex industry for reasons often similar to Fantine's. We weep for Fantine, but we shrink at the thought of approaching women in our clean, "free" American cities who we see living in the shadows of a shameful industry. We do not question why they are there. We do not pause to listen for their stories, which they might softly cry as Fantine does when no one is near. They once had dreams as well.
Last night I had the privilege of praying for modern-day Fantine's and for the women who, in Jesus' name, actually enter into the dark places where these women live. I don't share this to say "Look at me. I am responding and engaging when others are not." I share this because the images that filled my mind through the night last night and into today are all uncomfortable and some of them truly horrific. They are not letting go of me. While I was sitting there imaging women trapped in this industry and praying for freedom for them, I kept thinking, "This is right. This is good." Why do we spend so much time as a church arguing over who's following the rules correctly and whispering shocking stories over coffee, promising to pray for so and so lost person? If they are truly lost, why are we not out there trying to find them? Why are we not beckoning them to safety? Why are we not Jean Valjean who repented of having previously overlooked Fantine's plight by swiftly taking her in his arms, rushing her to a hospital and promising to care for her child for the rest of his life? And why did he show compassion on Fantine? Because he had once been destitute himself. Desperate need and a love for his starving nephew had driven him to commit a crime and, as a result, he spent years of his life in prison. He knew what it felt like to be crushed by the world, to be fighting for mere survival, to lose all belief that a higher being was up above watching his plight and caring about his life. He and Fantine finally believe in God and His love for them because they experience love from another person. In their own words, "To love another person is to see the face of God."
The other image that came to my mind this afternoon was that of a building burning down. As believers in Jesus, we ought to see ourselves as those who have been rescued from a burning building. We were surrounded by the flames, suffocating from the smoke, near death....and someone chose to rescue us. Now, we stand outside, breathing clean air, standing next to our rescuer. And then our rescuer tells us that there are more people left inside. We hear their screams. Some have already fallen silent, but there is still hope for them to be revived. He is going back in to search them out and carry them from the building that will only stand so long before it collapses. We agree with him. "Yes, you must rescue them. Please rescue them. Once they are out here with us, we will gladly enjoy a meal together, a meal we thought we might never eat." And then he says that he wants our help. There is only so much time before the building collapses, and he needs all the extra hands he can get. We will have a fire suit, offering full protection. We will be with him, and he promises that there is no danger of us getting trapped again. We may suffer a little from the smoke fumes. Of course we will have to leave the bright sunlight and clean air for a brief time, but he promises to never leave our side. Will we go? How could we refuse to run back in?
Les Miserables ends with a chorus of those who have died and are now standing at the barricade, calling the people who are left to join in the crusade and to fight. As those who are left, our hope in joining the fight is that, no matter what transpires each day in our dealings with people, there will one day be an end to this sadness and injustice. The only way people will believe us when we tell them of this hope is if we show them the love we have been shown. We who are in the light call out to those who do not believe in the light. The flame must burn brightest, we must shower our love most freely, we must run without hesitation into the darkest rooms where Fantine's sit weeping over lost dreams and Jean Valjean's growl in chains at the injustice dealt to them.
To end with some perspective from Scripture:
"Whoever says 'I know him' but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, but whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked."
- 1 John 2:4-6
You only have to read a little bit of any of the Gospels to see that Jesus walked with the sinner, the tax collector, the adulteress, and the terminally ill. And His greatest commandment is to love God and to love others. So if you are still uncertain as to whether you are really supposed to talk to a Fantine or run back into the burning building, just spend some time reading the words of Jesus and the way in which He walked. He was not afraid to keep these uncomfortable, horrific images in his mind because He knew the solution to every pain and sorrow. And we carry that solution, the treasure and blessing that is the Gospel, within us as His redeemed people. Let us not be afraid to walk as he walked.
I loved reading this. So true.
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