My wife and I once had a neighbor named Jessica, an impoverished and car-less single mom who would occasionally stop at our apartment door and ask for bus money or to borrow the phone. We eventually learned her backstory.
She was the daughter of a upstanding woman who was highly involved in a small local church. Jessica got pregnant in high school, and gave birth to her son, Justin. When we moved in next-door to Jessica’s place, Justin was 7 years old. Their room and board was being paid by Jessica’s grandmother, and Justin was going to the local elementary school. I mostly remember seeing Justin playing alone in the driveway when I came home from work.
My wife wanted to be very neighborly to Jessica. On occasion, we lent her our phone, gave her a ride to the doctor, or gave her some money. Our daughter played with her son in our shared yard. Jessica expressed some interest in attending our church.
We had to be gracious and discerning, though, because my wife could tell when Jessica was lying to get a handoff from us. Her grandmother was continually paying the rent and taking her to the grocery store, while Jessica was, sadly, taking no initiative in acquiring a job, maintaining the house or even playing with her son. Thus, we wanted to help her and also help her to help herself. She was a self-isolated homebody with, seemingly, no friends and an emotionally-distant family. And she didn’t want to go back to the church where she was raised and where most of her family attended. After all, they know of her sinful past. To some, perhaps, Justin (her non-aborted child) was her scarlet letter.
My wife and I moved to another (and bigger) rental community to accommodate our growing family. As my wife said good-bye to Jessica, she lovingly wished her the best, encouraged her to find a job, recommended a certain good, biblical and welcoming church within walking distance, and told her that, though we lived farther away, our phone number’s still the same and our door’s open if she ever wanted to talk. Jessica told my wife (truthfully, as she discerned) that we were the “best neighbors ever.”
A few months later, Jessica’s landlord emailed us that she was found dead in her apartment. She had overdosed on drugs. My wife attended her funeral at the church Jessica never wanted to go back to. She said it was a depressing funeral because few people seemed very saddened. It was as if Jessica, the never-wed single mother with no work ethic or job prospects, was a lost cause. Justin, now an orphan, lives with Jessica’s grandmother and still attends the same school. Jessica’s apartment was well-cleaned by the landlord and, because of its prime location, found a new tenant quickly.
This true story (the names have been changed) shows a reality that, I feel, is known by few churchgoers (and also pled in a recent Christianity Today editorial): the battle for the sanctity of human life doesn’t end when the baby is born. Credit should be given to Jessica for not aborting her son, but it seems that’s where most the discipleship and grace from her family and church ended. Justin, the valued soul that pro-lifers were likely fighting for, lived at least 7 developmental years impoverished and virtually mother-less. Imagine if her church family had given her grace in the form of relational investment and encouragement, all the while developing her work ethic, maturity and motherhood skills. I can’t guarantee that it would have prevented her death and given her story a fairy tale ending, but it might have helped. My wife and I, just learning about her situation almost a decade into it, were too little too late.
As we look to another national election season, tempted by passionate and heated tirades, let’s remember that the Church’s unique weapon in graciously helping the poor and the broken is not governmental stake or wealth. It’s Truth and biblical love. If we think the battle of pro-lifers is over once laws are passed and babies are born, I fear that stories like Jessica’s will become more common.
1 comment:
So true and so well said.
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