Pray and Trust - You Will See

The picture on the screen was grotesque and horrible. Yet me eyes were glued. I couldn't look away.

"Oh, Jesus... Oh, Jesus..." Tears threatened.

To look at her caused my insides to churn.  She had once been very beautiful, that was plain to see. Now her skin was burned and pussing, her hair (or what was left of it) was singed and matted. And in her eyes you could see a siege taking place.  Anger was infiltrating her whole being. Bitterness.

"What happened?!!" 

Despite the noise of a crowded coffee shop, I came to know what tragedy had fallen on this undeserving girl. 

She was the nanny of Hannibal Gaddafi's grandchildren, (That alone, I thought, was tragedy enough.) and had suffered horrible abuse at the hands of Gaddafi's wife, Aline. 

"She took me to a bathroom and tied my hands behind my back, and tied my feet,"  my eyes followed the subtitles, "she tied my mouth...and she started pouring  boiling water on my head like this." 

Gallons. Gallons of scalding water racing over her skin, burning, searing. I couldn't imagine. 

This was her offense: She had refused to beat Hannibal's young son when he wouldn't stop crying. 

Mullah, whose wounds were in desperate need of medical attention, said she was never paid for her work or allowed to go to the hospital. "I worked for a whole year; they didn't give me one penny," she noted. "She [Aline] said, 'No money for you. You just work.'"

Confusion almost overwhelmed me. I could never even do this to a BUG. What would drive a person to do something so horrible? 

"Jesus? Did you see that? Why didn't you interfere? That's so so awful. Please help me here. Cuz I'm really struggling with this one. She doesn't even know you! She has no hope of true joy now. Outside of You, I mean. I know You still think she's beautiful, but... I don't. And no one else will now either. Oh Jesus..." I talk to Him very frankly sometimes. 

At home I hit my bathroom floor in prayer. I begged God for her salvation. Literally begged. I can't remember the last time I prayed so urgently. And I am on the otherside of the world. 

"So what else can I do?" I thought. "I feel so helpless. So... protected and so innocent."

But then... Isn't that the best thing I can do? Pray.

"Pray and trust, Monica. Pray and trust." 

Now I have to be faithful. Continually lifting her up to Him. 

It's good to see these things, to know even if it is ugly or it hurts. Because then I know how to pray specifically and more effectively. 

8-30-11 thought of the day