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Injustice. A three-syllable word that has evoked more outrage in people of good will than any other word in our vocabulary. I can’t stand to see it. The Scriptures tell us to denounce it, especially when it comes to injustice against the most vulnerable among us – the widows, the orphans, the aliens, using biblical terminology.

Just today I read that the butchers of Nigeria, the so-called “Boko Haram” thugs, targeted and killed 44 people in the northern part of the country. This terrorist group has killed over 2,000 people in six months, and in their recent raids, they also kidnapped women and children and burned down three churches in their effort to rid the region of religious people other than Muslims.

How can you not be angry at these indiscriminate acts of killing? How can you not protest?

Here at home, a violence of a different sort is brewing. Thousands of children have crossed the border illegally over the last six months and no one seems to know what to do with them. Citizen groups, often led by their own politicians, have organized to prevent children from being brought to temporary housing in their cities and towns. We want to see them deported, the sooner the better. There is talk of diseases, burdens on local school districts, crime, etc., etc.

But very few are speaking on behalf of the children. Who is telling their story? I found one sympathetic voice this week but the majority of people are protesting loudly: “My tax money is paying for this!” “They are bringing deadly diseases!” “How do you know they haven’t committed crimes back in their home countries?”

Now I don’t deny that these issues are complicated and there are no easy solutions. I sympathize with those who have concerns and there is no question that some nefarious elements are operating behind the scene, but how can we not sympathize with the plight of children, some as young as 7 years old? Can we at least for a moment rise above our fears and focus on the tragedies of others?

This Sunday I will talking about the life of a woman who suffered a terrible personal injustice when she was only six weeks old. Fannie J. Crosby, through a medical mistake, lost her vision when she was only a baby. As she grew up and learned of what had happened, she could have turned bitter toward the man whose mistake was the cause of her fate, but instead, she learned to quietly accept her lot and allow God to use her the way she was. She said, “In more than eighty-five years, I have not for a moment felt a spark of resentment against him, for I have always believed from my youth up that the good Lord, in His infinite mercy, by this means consecrated me to the work that I am still permitted to do.”

Fannie J. Crosby went on to write poetry and lyrics of hymns that have been a tremendous blessing and a source of comfort to so many throughout the ages. If Fannie were living today, she would probably be walking among those children who are stuck in no-man’s land right now. She gave a great deal of her time and talent to the “least of these,” the homeless and mentally ill in NYC, and she loved every moment of it. I hope you will join us this Sunday as we look at one of my favorite hymns of all time, “A Wonderful Savior is Jesus My Lord.”

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

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