Seldom do I feel the need to comment on political things. Or current events. Lord knows it isn’t because I don’t have an opinion. My belief is that unless you and I are in relationship of some form, meaning, you have a reason to listen to my opinion or I have earned the right to offer it to you, I shouldn’t dump to on you. In this case, you and I ARE in a relationship. Many of you live and love people in this great state of Ohio, and we are all affected by this heroin problem that we currently watching grow like a hideous weed that spreads seeds faster than it can be eradicated.
Before you even think it, I also recognize that just like there are good teachers, good public servants, good doctors, good officers and good garbage collectors….there are also bad ones. There are people who use their positions of authority for evil and hurt others. The men and women I observed in this video fall into that first list and should be respected as such.
I have overheard so many people in the grocery, at the park and at schools recently talking about a hard question:
“Why should we [the taxpayers] foot the bill for Narcan, when users will turn around and use again?”
I’ve asked myself this question, too.
I watched this video. All ten minutes of it. Not because I didn’t know exactly what it looked like, but I wanted to know, “Why?” As the granddaughter of a former policeman (MP and also Chief), I have always felt love and gratitude for those who keep me safe and risk their lives doing it. I wanted to see what that officer did on the side of I75 when he found that father and son overdosed in the median. Getting out of your car at all, with trucks speeding at 75-80 miles an hour past your back IS a sacrifice. Approaching a car with two people in it, not responding to your calls, IS ALSO a sacrifice. I watched as he called out, tapped the window, and then jumped back and tried to stay on guard. Clearly, that didn’t apply when he went into action, broke that window, and tried to drag them out of the car and save their lives.
Thank you, Jesus, that this driver’s foot left the gas pedal and he careened into that green space. At 5:47 on that Monday evening, the love of my life was literally just pulling onto that side of that stretch of the highway, and like everyday, I pray he makes it home safely back home to me and his five children. I don’t know where these two came from. I don’t know how a father could ever lead a son down this path. I don’t know where they have been. I do know it is a dark place, and that the wiry talons of the enemy has its hooks in their souls.
Paul Taylor said today as he preached a message on community, “We’ve got to get out of our Christian ghettos” and connect with others. It is the way we were made. It is why we were made. Foster care has caused our family to do that in a way like never before. We look everyday into the eyes of our little people who were directly impacted by this heroin epidemic. The scars they bear are so deep, AND THEY HAVE NEVER TOUCHED A NEEDLE. We are in community with many other families on the same mission. They all do that, too.
I was so critical of these people, the users, until I learned more about them. I learned that many DESPERATELY want to never use again. I learned that the power of this drug is so intense and so strong, that, except for deliverance that comes from the hand of Almighty God, I don’t know how they could ever walk away. This isn’t to say that there aren’t evil people who are selling and entrapping others for the sake of greed and darkness. Those individuals need to be caught and brought to swift justice.
Jesus died for all of them.
These two survived. So did the officers. And the nurse on the side of the road. And my boy driving home. But for many last week in Cincinnati, that was not the case. We must all engage in playing a part in change. We must leave our homogeneous circles and do life with others, and then we must go together to the dark places with the light of a risen Savior, the only hope of salvation for these desperate people. The very heart of this place we call home is at stake. The very fiber of our communities is at stake. This affects us all.