On speaking for justice.

In the midst of Trump’s executive order regarding refugees, and in the wake of the March for Life, I see many of my Christian friends speaking out against injustices this weekend to defend the helpless and the voiceless. I am proud to align myself with them.
 
I remember a specific situation when I ignored a need for action. When I was very young, my family went to the Wild Animal Park in San Diego. As we walked, I remember watching a woman in a wheelchair take a sharp corner too quickly and tip over her chair. I looked up at my dad, but he had been looking at something else. It quickly became apparent that I was the only one who’d seen her fall. I should have rushed to help, gone to her side and checked that she was okay, but I froze. I did nothing as she laid there. It wasn’t long before her daughter came to her side, but that moment has always haunted me. I still do not understand why I didn’t rush to help.
 
Flash forward fifteen years to Liberty’s campus. My then-boyfriend and I were fighting in a hallway. He was verbally abusing me and was threatening to physically hurt me when someone came out of a classroom to ask us to lower our voices. They had seen him slap my shoulder bag and prepare to hit me, punching his hand with his fist as a threat. They said nothing. They went back to their own business.
 
But I have friends who advocate for widows and orphans, unborn children, those without a home or a country of their own. They’ve seen something go wrong, and they’re saying something. Injustice is their business.
 
Never again do I want to be in a situation where I knew something was wrong and said nothing. Thank you, friends, for taking action when you see needs.
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