“He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.” Isaiah 53:3
When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:7
There’s a young woman on the street corner. She twirls fingers through threads of black hair that reach her bikini topped breast. Her other hand holds a cigarette, the red ashes falling in the dim light. Her black boots click, click as she walks. Her elbows rest on a grey sedan’s open window ledge. She opens the passenger door and she gets in, rides away.
There’s a teen on the driveway. She twirls fingers through threads of black hair that reach the lettering on her t-shirt across her breasts. Her other hand holds an over-flowing bag, the red sequins on the straps flashing like diamonds. Her white converse runners squeak, squeak as she walks. Her elbows rest on the red mustang’s open window ledge. She opens the passenger door and she gets in, rides away.
There’s a child in the house. She twirls her fingers through threads of black hair that reach the collar of her pink sweater. Her other hand holds a blonde barbie, the doll’s clothes laying on the bare floor unseen in the darkness. Her bare feet tap, tap, as she walks. Her elbows rest on the bedroom’s open window ledge. She hears a door open behind her, closes her eyes and dreams of a white car and she gets in, rides away.
There’s a 17 year-old woman, her name and picture flashed up on my television screen. A public risk, they say, charged for aggravated sexual assault for not disclosing her life-threatening STD to consenting sexual partners. She is hand-cuffed, chained, behind bars.
She is bad, people are told, for having HIV.
Her story today, as told by others, is all that anyone sees, knows.
There’s a baby in the crib. She twirls her fingers through threads of a pink blanket that reach her tummy. Her other hand holds a brown teddy bear, a red ribbon around it’s neck highlighted in the moon light. Her toes wave as she giggles. Her elbows rest on the mattress. She hears a door open behind her, her eyes open wide and she waves, waves her innocent tiny fists and feet in the air, ready to be embraced.
In today’s headlines, do you question “What is the story behind the story?”
There is only one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy. But you–who are to judge your neighbour? James 4:12
(first published at Connecting Stories)