Over the past couple of weeks or so a distressing yet poorly publicized incident has been making the rounds of social media. Approximately 234 Nigerian schoolgirls, ages 12 to 15, were abducted from their school by local terrorists. Since that time random kidnappings have continued to occur on a sporadic basis. To compound this horror, news reports indicate that many of the girls have been sold as "wives" or as sex slaves by the group. Escapees have recounted incidents of some of these children being raped up to 15 times a day.
My first thought after my mind was finally able to accept all of this as truth was that this could have easily been my sister, one of my nieces, a cousin, one of my goddaughters--but for the grace of God.
As I monitored the online reactions of those who were presented with the news of what had happened disappointment began to rise as an accompaniment to my grief. Many had no reaction at all to the news, continuing to focus on frivolity. Discussions about reality shows, sitcoms, and prime time dramas dominated a multitude of feeds, and for these conversation participants life continued to rock happily on.
As believers, the love that we have in our hearts should reflect the love of God, and I feel certain that the plight of these young women grieves His heart. Shouldn't it stand to reason that it should grieve us also? In the absence of the ability to physically intervene on their behalf shouldn't our collective conscience be pricked to the point that we are at least prompted to send up fervent prayers for their deliverance?
It seems that the longer time stretches, the harder the heart of man becomes. My hope is that somehow, some way, that if any good can possibly come out of all of this it would be that we all take the time to look deep within our hearts and assess what kind of fruit is growing there.
*Photo courtesy of @DJNature.