The Foreignness of Forgiveness

The human capacity to destroy never ceases to amaze me.

On December 4th, in Horry County, SC a baby boy was discovered laying dead on the side of a road by a County utility worker. The coroner estimated that the baby was, at most, only a few days old.

Imagine it.

A mother, taking her newborn baby, button him up in a onesie and coat, and loading him in the car. Knowing where she was going. Having thoroughly thought through where she was going to stop her car. Get out. Take her son into her arms. Walk several steps away from the car. Lay her baby boy in a roadside ditch. Turn her back. Walk away. Get in the car. Put it in drive. And watch the distance grow, and grow, and grow in the rear view mirror as she drove away from the human life she created.

The human capacity to destroy never ceases to amaze me.


The human capacity to love never ceases to amaze me.

On December 4th, in Horry County, SC a baby boy was discovered laying dead on the side of a road by a County utility worker. One utility worker found a child, and an entire community felt the loss.

Several community members heard of Baby Horry, and though the child never experienced love in life, they wanted to ensure a symbol of love to surround his death. So one community member stepped forward and donated a coffin. Another made sure to order a beatiful spray for the cemetary site. Dozens of people- strangers- came forward to donate items toward the funeral. Dozens of people- strangers- attended the funeral. A woman called the local flower shop to order flowers for the gravesite. When the shop owner asked if she wanted a card attached, since no one would be there to accept the card, she replied, "Yes, write a card, and let it say 'I would have loved you.'"

The human capacity to love never ceases to amaze me.

How easy it is for us to think well of the woman who would have loved a child whom she never met. How amazingly easy it is for us to judge the woman who left that child behind. To think her a monster. To say "I would never_____," or "How could she?". It is so easy for us to love those who love. And easier to hate those who destroy.

Here is the difficult part...

We are called to love them both. Equally. Without judgement. We are called to love the strangers who outpoured generosity upon a baby they didn't know. But we are especially called to love the mother, who could not lover her child. God doesn't say, "Love eachother...except for the murderers, thieves, drug addicts, liars, abusers, and pedophiles." He calls us to love each other, as He loves us. Love each other. Love EACH other. Each. Every.

We are called to love this mother, because of the actions of a Father, and because of the actions of a young mother, several years ago. Who had a child of her own. A baby boy. Whom she dressed, and laid not in a ditch on the side of the road, but in a manger. In a feeding trough of a barn, she laid down her new baby boy. This mother, much like that which abandoned the child in Horry County, was probably scared, and unasure, and without the resources to raise a child.

That child, brought into the world in less than glamorous settings, would go on to teach humanity exactly what love looks like. Love looks like pain. Love looks upon the sin of this world, and acknowledges the worth of the sinner, and forgives the sin. That child became a man who saved the world. The ENTIRE world...not just the "good" people of the world. He would have saved the world if there only existed one baby boy to save. He would have saved the world if there only existed one scared mother to save. He would have saved the world if there only existed you. He would have saved the world if there only existed me.

So who am I, to hear about a murdered child, and condemn the mother? Who am I to judge? Who am I to say, "I could never forgive her".

I'll tell you who I am.

I am the mother of the abandoned boy. And so are you. We are all that mother. We are all undeserving. We are all drowning in our need for grace. We would all suffocate without Christ's forgiveness. Our sins are no more worse than her's. Our need to repent is no less than her's. Our desperation for salvation is equal.

Christmas is upon us. The season to remember Christ's birth is upon us. My hope is that you will also remember Christ's death. The death of a man, who came as a child, to save humanity. The birth of freedom. The death of condemnation.