Do Justice...

Sunday was beautiful. The sun was out, it was in the 60's (what's funny is that the Irish think this is sea swimming weather), and it wasn't terribly windy. The day started with a lovely (but short) skype session with KK in Uganda. It is so good seeing her face every couple weeks.

At church John spoke on Micah 6:6-8.

"With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high?

Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?

Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,

with ten thousands of rivers of oil?

Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,

the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

He has told you, O man, what is good;

and what does the LORD require of you

but to do justice, and love kindness (mercy), and to walk humbly with your God?"

With this in mind, Kyle and I continued on with the day. We decided to catch a 13:20 DART and do some walking up the coast several stations away. As we entered the DART station, I casually noticed a man in an electronic wheelchair (the kind that gives away the permanency of the person's situation) who was by himself. We got on the train and waited to depart. After a short while, the conductor's voice rang out through the train cars. "There's been a malfunction on the track between Greystones and Bray. We don't know when it will be fixed. Please exit the train now." We begrudgingly arose and headed toward the exit. I noticed one of the train staff extending a ramp onto the train to help the man in the wheelchair safely exit over the gap between the train and the platform.

After about ten minutes of deciding what to do (should we take a bus to Bray and catch the DART there? Should we can it and go to lunch?) we turned to walk toward home when a Dublin Bus appeared at the stop. We think it was sent because of the DART malfunction because the next bus was not due to arrive for another 45 minutes. We weren't the only people to see the bus pull up on the other side of the street. The man in the wheelchair, who had been waiting in front of the DART station, started grunting loudly, I think in order to get the bus driver's attention. Without looking, he rolled out into the busy street. Cars slammed on their breaks. As I watched this scene unfold I was stunned by the persistence this man showed - just to catch a bus. We crossed the street a moment later (I was acutely aware of how simple it was for us to extend our legs and in 5 strides, come safely to the other side).

There was a large group of people waiting to get on the bus. The man in the wheelchair pulled up to the edge of the sidewalk in front of the bus door. Kyle and I were the last people on besides him. I knew he probably had to get on last because the ramp would need to be extended. The bus driver was talking with several passengers who were trying to sort out their tickets. I waited near the door to make sure the man in the wheelchair got on alright. In a moment, the doors closed and the bus lurched forward. I didn't know what to do. I was so caught off guard that I literally couldn't speak. I watched the man in the wheelchair out the bus window as long as I could see him. But then we turned a corner and he was gone. We were gone.

My face turned red and anger welled up inside me. I don't know if I've ever called another human being such terrible names in my head as I called that bus driver. As I sat down on the upper level of the double decker bus, I began to cry. Small tears escaped from under my sunglasses and streamed down my hot cheeks. I thought about the effort the man in the wheelchair had exerted in just 20 minutes trying to use public transportation. I thought about how he very literally almost got killed trying to catch the bus - the bus whose driver closed the doors in his face not because he wasn't there in time, but because he couldn't ride the bus without help. I keep thinking about what that must have felt like, to be forgotten and ignored and viewed as worthless in the eyes of the world. Defeat. Failure. Loneliness.

Kyle was startled by how quickly the bus had begun moving. Surely it would have have taken a few minutes for the man in the wheelchair to enter the bus. When I told him that the man in the wheelchair was left alone on the side of the street, he was heartbroken. We felt so helpless. What could we have done? How do we "do justice and love mercy" in a world of pain? How do we stand up for the oppressed and mistreated? One way to begin this self-examination is to ask, "Do I view people properly?" In The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis says, "It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship...There are no ordinary people."

Paul encourages the Philippians to, "Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." May we care for those around us, asking the Lord to give us His eyes and the courage to act rightly in the face of injustice, love mercy, and walk humbly with Him.