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"I write what I see, and it comes from the heart." .....Jon C. Randall
Abuse, Under Authority
The other day, after walking a young couple with their two boys to their truck, I stayed and chatted with them a bit before they left. All of a sudden, the smallest boy who was standing on the seat, reached over and gave a kiss to his mother. I was surprised, and watched the love that then flowed between them, as the mother said "Oh!" returning the kiss, followed by many from the son. The father watched as I did, with a smile in his eyes, seeing the love between the son and mother. It was a love that was pure to watch, a free flowing exchange of beauty. As I stood there, I wondered then, why I never saw that in my youth, nor ever felt it at all.
My eyes have been opened recently to the massive number of people who have gone through what I have, abused in their youth under the authority of their parents; their lives etched with scars and pains, a void within needing to be filled. It has staggered me of the numbers of them, all reaching out, drawn to each other in support and compassion none others may understand. They give out of love, while still hurting inside. I am honored to see them, to then become a part of their world, to share.
Yet my understanding has been opened further, as I look around the world through time and history, seeing what others have gone through as well. In the stand for principles, freedom, and liberty; to faith in Him, His word, and His purpose; men everywhere are abused, under authority of those who are threatened in their quest for power and greed. The heart of man, after that fall from grace, is truly wicked. I have wondered often, whether to suffer silently the torment within, or could I look outward to attempt to share those gifts bestowed upon me, to ease the burden of others for understanding. The battle rages within; yet at the time it seems the loneliest of hours, I see all those in this world who have, or are undergoing, the same.
I scan the horizons, and see Bosnia, Tienamin Square, Rwanda, Korea, the Middle East, and the killing fields of Cambodia and Vietnam. I look closer to home, and see Waco, Ruby Ridge, and Washington DC. There is no shame for that abuse by those in authority; lives mean nothing; power and comfort means all. I have become aware of the cold blooded murder of 56+ individuals, for the protection of one man, so that he can remain in authority, and in power. I look even closer, and see the murder of the children, in the wombs of those who were created to nurture, protect, and love them, under the authority of their husbands. There are now no kisses from them, nor to be received in response in love. The heart of man, is truly wicked.
I search even further, and see a peculiar people, slaughtered, because they were Jews. They were abused by those in authority, for that simple fact, that they were Jews. The annihilation of nations and cultures by others, go on, from that time one man killed his own brother, with a stone. The massive persecution, because of religion, nationality, or possessions remains unabated nor unchecked. And do not misjudge me; as I do not equate other alleged persecution against particular groups, because THEY abuse the innocent, in their greed and selfish desires; with what I'm talking about now. These have no shame, within themselves, for the wickedness they do therein.
But my focus now, is upon one man, who alone, among all the peoples of this earth, was innocent. Like we; when we were children, of whom children He so dearly loved; He was abused, under the authority of those religious and governmental leaders, to the point of death. Yet with His dying breath, He still loved, and forgave those who abused Him. His purpose, to die, so that we may receive love, and forgiveness as well.
And as I watched the truck drive off, still wondering about the why, I am grateful to be allowed to see, those moments of love.
© Copyright Jon C. Randall
August 3, 1996
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