AN OPPORTUNITY FOR MORAL COURAGE
I was power-walking the five blocks home after a church leadership meeting tonight when I heard across the street a woman cursing out her teenage daughter. As I got closer, I could begin to make out the daughter’s sobs during the pauses in the woman’s profanity-laced diatribe. As I crossed the street, I came into the path of the daughter who was staggering away from the woman’s house.
My mind and body raced with competing thoughts. Do I get away from this situation and get home as soon as possible? Or was this a “Good Samaritan” moment, an immediate opportunity to practice the kind of moral courage that was talked about in theory all weekend long at a Christian conference I had attended in Chicago? I was scared and tired, but felt I simply had to say or do something or else I would feel ashamed.
“Hey, are you OK?” My voice wasn’t as warm as I wanted it to be, and my body language communicated that I hoped I could soon be on my way. The teen mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and continued sobbing. Of course she was not OK. I didn’t want to press. “Are you sure?” This time my voice softened a little. She nodded. I passed her by and continued my power-walking pace.
As I got to my door step, I thought to myself that it would’ve been nice if I could’ve made a little bit more eye contact, just to let this teen have some sort of human connection at a moment of abandonment and shame. I decided that while I wasn’t a total coward, I wasn’t nearly as spontaneously courageous as I wished. I said a little prayer – for myself and for the teen – and went inside.
I was power-walking the five blocks home after a church leadership meeting tonight when I heard across the street a woman cursing out her teenage daughter. As I got closer, I could begin to make out the daughter’s sobs during the pauses in the woman’s profanity-laced diatribe. As I crossed the street, I came into the path of the daughter who was staggering away from the woman’s house.
My mind and body raced with competing thoughts. Do I get away from this situation and get home as soon as possible? Or was this a “Good Samaritan” moment, an immediate opportunity to practice the kind of moral courage that was talked about in theory all weekend long at a Christian conference I had attended in Chicago? I was scared and tired, but felt I simply had to say or do something or else I would feel ashamed.
“Hey, are you OK?” My voice wasn’t as warm as I wanted it to be, and my body language communicated that I hoped I could soon be on my way. The teen mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and continued sobbing. Of course she was not OK. I didn’t want to press. “Are you sure?” This time my voice softened a little. She nodded. I passed her by and continued my power-walking pace.
As I got to my door step, I thought to myself that it would’ve been nice if I could’ve made a little bit more eye contact, just to let this teen have some sort of human connection at a moment of abandonment and shame. I decided that while I wasn’t a total coward, I wasn’t nearly as spontaneously courageous as I wished. I said a little prayer – for myself and for the teen – and went inside.
Comments