“From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force.” – Matthew 11:12
The bike was a gift to my son for his birthday; a Jamis Trail XR 13. He previously found delight in riding a yellow dirt bike that was given to us by a friend, but outgrew it. I wanted him to have something that would last.
I took him to The Ferguson Bike Shop and talked to my friend, Gerry. I had purchased a pretty white and blue Jamis Allegro from him a few years prior and I wanted to give him my business. Gerry is a good man who retired from Emerson Electric and hopped into the bike business. I loved that he gave back to the community. I became friends with him when he invited me to participate in one of his free cycling events for people who were learning how to live a healthy lifestyle. In fact, it was Gerry who encouraged me to write my story for The Ferguson Times to give people hope. That story turned into a monthly column I’ve been writing for 8 years.
All of that to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of a purchase. The purchase of the black Jamis was to be the beginning of many bike rides with my son. I wanted him to enjoy exercise and spending time with his mom.
So, when the thief stole my son’s bike, he took more than just an old bike I picked up at Wal-Mart for a few bucks. He stole a dream. The morning we woke up to realize my son forgot to bring it in and it was gone, there was loud wailing in my home. As we drove around the neighborhood, hoping to find it ditched on a corner, I prayed for God to bring it back. I prayed for justice. And we wept.
In the weeks since that event, we have struggled to come to terms with our identity as victims. I have encouraged my child to forgive the thief and to pray for his salvation. But even this is messy. We still don’t have the bike. Something of value was taken from us. Something we can’t replace.
I was scrolling through Facebook Marketplace looking for our bike recently when it occurred to me how much this loss has affected me. I realized that while people are sympathetic, they don’t really care about our loss. The general response has been to blame the victim, “Well, Kid, why did you leave it out?” and then to tell me, “Hey, Margaret, just buy a new one.” In the case of violent crimes, we have support groups where people can process their grief and recover. But there is no support group for the loss of something as insubstantial as a bike. But candidly, it matters to us. We too want justice. We even filed a police report.
And while I don’t want to attach too great a value on possessions, I would like to suggest something. When victimization is trivialized, it’s easy to lose our emotional equilibrium. We quickly become cynical. Cynicism morphs into anger. Anger builds to rage and hatred. But if we are not careful, rage will quickly transform into violence.
But those who follow Jesus practice a different way.
Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount:
“You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy! But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. – Matthew 5:43-45
The Apostle Luke recorded it this way:
“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” – Luke 6:27-31
Our identities have deep ties to our emotions, therefore when our passions are stirred, we seek out comfort in those who share our experiences. Ideological divisions often form between victims, perpetrators, and any range of people on a broad spectrum in the human gene pool. But those who follow Christ have specific unifying guidelines.
“Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord. To the contrary, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12: 17-21
I have been wondering lately if I have the strength to do that. If I were to determine who stole my son’s bike, would I ask the police not to prosecute them? Would I invite them into my home? Would I feed them? Or would I join a club of other victims of bike theft and find ways to punish people that looked like my thief? I suppose this reads rather ridiculous. After all, it was just a bike. I should just get over it. But the logic remains the same whether someone is a bike thief, a rapist, a murderer or an adulterer. Come to think of it, I wonder if there are any Bernie Madoff victims who—in the Name of Jesus—refused to be refunded for their losses?
Or, put a different way, would I be able to forgive the people in my church who want to force me into an identity that does not belong to me? How should I respond to someone who is asking me to repent for something I don’t feel convicted of doing? Can I still claim the centrality of the gospel to heal divisions brought about by current social events? Or better put, can I extend grace to someone who says they follow Jesus but does not appear to obey His teachings? I don’t ask this with any sense of superiority, but rather with a goal of unity. If the gospel of Jesus doesn’t unify the church, we have a serious problem.
I write this as I look out over a very fine evening. There is a blue sky and a gentle breeze wafting in at the end of a sunny, humidity free day. My son has been out playing with his friends and we are preparing to go to bed. As I watch the neighborhood children riding their bikes up and down the street, I find myself wondering… if I saw one of them riding my son’s bike, would I run out and pull it out from underneath him, or have the compassion to let him ride away with it in peace?
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