Adam and I were eating lunch today, discussing the wedding, specifically the cost of feeding people at the reception. I'm highly cost cautious, and trying to plan a wedding and maintain my frugal tendencies is proving to be quite the challenge. I got really frustrated with the conversation, and we just dropped it. I was kind of somber as we walked to Barnes & Noble. We're both wanting to keep the most important part of December 17th at the forefront of our planning: celebrating our marriage covenant with the people we love.
I was glad we planned to spend a couple of hours in the bookstore. We went our separate ways inside, and I mulled over my wedding dilemmas. I decided to change routes and just pick a book to start reading. I perused the cookbooks (some things don't change), scanned the educational books, and then headed for the biographies. It's been a while since I immersed myself in someone else's story, and I felt like today would be a good day.
As I scanned the shelves, I found a book that caught my eye. I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced. I picked it up, sat down, and began reading. After 19 pages, I was engulfed and needed to relocate to sit up against a wall as I continued reading.
Perhaps you are familiar with her story, but I was not. This little girl lived in a country village of Yemen where no one really knew her birthday nor could her parents say with confidence how old she was. In fact, her mom had to really use brain power to figure out the birth order of her children. Time was not kept with a calendar, just the rising and setting of the sun. Her mom birthed 16 children, several of them dying before they reached the age of 2 due to lack of any medical attention. She birthed her children on a wooden mat, cut the cord with a kitchen knife, and bathed her newborns in whatever water they could find. Life in this village was not easy, but young Nujood described it as paradise.
Her story unfolds; it involves moving and losing family members, a lot of change for a little girl. And at the age of 10, which is just a guess, her father married her off to a 30 year old man for the value of $750. Her husband violently consummated their marriage, and she was introduced to her new life as a wife. But better called a slave. At 10 years old. Night after night of beatings and horror, she came to hate her life and desperately wish for the nightmare to end.
At this point in the book, I'm physically ill and my mind is reeling, trying to wrap my brain around her life. I'm fully aware that this is not an isolated story. And I cannot fathom living out her story.
Her husband allows her to visit her family in the city, and she tells of her life, pleading for help. Her mom's response, "This is the life of a woman." Her dad refuses to help and even says she will dishonor him by doing anything other than staying with her husband. Can I reiterate that she is ten years old? She finally refused to re-enter her personal hell and marches straight to the courthouse, demanding a divorce. The story is long and detailed, but thankfully, she is victorious. At the age of 10, she does it. She gets divorced, finds freedom, and gains her life back. She re-enters school, returns home, and works through the pain and shame of her childhood trauma.
After I finished the book, I went and sat next to Adam who was sitting about 50 yards away, also against the wall, also reading a book. I put my head on his shoulder and the tears started flowing. Not to anyone's surprise, I'm sure. I tried to pull myself together. I took one look at Adam and started sobbing. He held me close and eventually I had to get up to find a bathroom. I know he was thinking, "WHY did she read that book?!"
But my wedding dilemma just became a non-issue.
As I cried on Adam, I couldn't help but frantically ask questions. Why am I so privileged that I was born in the States? Why did Nujood suffer so greatly and I not at all? Why is this still happening? How come little girls are victim of this all the time? The more questions I asked, the harder I cried.
My wedding day is going to look drastically different than Nujood's. I look forward to that day with excitement and longing, and she shuddered in fear and cried incessantly. I am thankful that our families have literally hundreds of people who want to celebrate this covenant with us. Nujood's own father sold her for $750. The gap between my wedding and her wedding will be indescribable.
I could barely look at Adam as I found composure. I felt so overwhelmed by the grace of God in my life. I couldn't get words out because it would have led to further breakdown. Why God chose to lavishly pour out His grace in my life, I will never know. I am so undeserving yet so grateful.
This little girl would talk about crying out to Allah, and my heart would just break. To live that life and recover from it without Jesus is unfathomable to me. The hopelessness of life is too dark. My heart longs to bring Jesus to people who know nothing but hopelessness. The saving and healing power of Jesus could radically change Nujood's life.
Thrust in my face is not just the gap in cultures, rights, and freedoms. Also the gap in who Christians are called to be and how we are currently representing Jesus Christ to the dying world around us. I suppose I should be more specific and make less generalizations. Though I would love to cast stones at the Western Church and how inward focused we have become, I must first examine my own short comings in this area.
I am called to be the salt of the Earth, a bringer of hope, and bearer of light. To passionately pursue justice on behalf of the oppressed and freedom for those in captivity. This is my heart beat, but one wouldn't know that at a cursory glance. I long to see the glory of God put on magnificent display in the darkest places. How I wish Nujood had a relationship with Jesus! As I entered into her story, I got a reminder of the broken and fallen world I live in. I have so much to be excited about right now and can easily go through a day without thinking about stories like Nujood, sadly.
As I continue to plan our wedding, I will inevitably get frustrated again. But I hope I can remember this little girl's story and close the gap on who Jesus wants me to be and who I currently am.
Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks Yours. Everything I am for your Kingdom's cause.
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