How Many Care?
The scene on the South Side was a blood bath. As he lay dying so few were crying, the mob called for his blood. Had they not remembered when he found a doctor to fix Joe’s cleft palate or had talked Jane down from the ledge? What about when he sat with Grandma Dorothy and comforted her as she left the world? This was just a sampling of all he had done.
“Those are all things that any man can do, if you’re indeed an angel then grant me riches or make me young again.”
They would not understand he could not deviate from God’s plan. He could not reveal his powers or even fight back, he had to sit and take the vicious attack.
“Come on mister angel show us your might. If you are what they say make me famous tonight.”
The mob did not get it, they could not understand. They missed the small miracles that were part of God’s plan. They kept attacking with vicious delight, kicking and clawing and stabbing. The man had done nothing but help where he could. The greediness would not let them see all that he had done good. When the mob thought they had achieved their goal of ending the life of this apparent fraud, something strange happened.
Suddenly a glow emanated from the man’s back. Wings emerged from the blood and the scars. As he took flight a voice came from the heavens.
“My servant was sent to teach you a lesson. Yet so few of you opened your eyes to this blessing. Miracles happen when you help one another. This is something that many of you have lost sight of. He has done his job, he will now depart may all that has happened lift the darkness from your heart.”
Would this occurrence renew compassion? Would these people live in a different fashion? Most of us knew what the answer would be, “me help you, what’s in it for me?”