The Real Enemy

I first wrote the following passage on December 28th, 2010.  On that day many Christians observed the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the memorial to the first and unwitting martyrs for Christ.  

I think of Anne on this day as I think about the parents of those babies, slaughtered by Herod's secret police in a pogrom intended just to make sure that no peasant pretenders would arise to trouble Herod's horrendous rule.  There is no news here, of course.  Bloody old Herod had murdered sons and wife and colleagues and friends to protect his power.  What were the lives of a few dozen infants in that nondescript little hick town of Bethlehem?

Why?  Perhaps the parents asked this.  Why did my baby die?  What purpose could such slaughter accomplish, other than the agenda of that half-Idumean tyrant on the Jerusalem throne?  This is a question that haunts me sometimes, and must haunt anyone who loses love through tragedy.  What could be accomplished in Anne's dying?  Why did it happen?

A well-meaning soul said to me, "God needed another angel in heaven, so he took Anne."  This was early in the process and my personal supply of graciousness was nearing zero.  "I needed her more," I said without smiling.  After all, God can whip up a new batch of angels in the wink of an eye or the twitch of a finger.  Had my Annie died because of a heavenly labor shortage?  Had she been abducted through some sort of Divine press gang maneuver to fill up the ranks of the celestial choirs...or in her case because there was an opening in the heavenly nursery?  Was God simply too lazy or incompetent to fill the spots Godself?

Of course not.  That is merely the foolishness of having nothing helpful to say.  God didn't kidnap Anne because angelic recruitment numbers were down.  Like the Holy Innocents, she died in the Great Battle that still rages--light against darkness, life versus death, hope against despair, God versus the Evil One.  Every war produces casualties.  Death is the final enemy to be conquered, and death fights for survival (one of the paradoxes of existence) at every moment.

If anyone wanted her dead, it was the Enemy, the Evil One.  If I direct my anger anywhere (and I do), it is against this dark and malevolent power that assassinated her rather than having to face her on the front lines.  I hate Death, and I will not surrender to the powers of the Evil One.  Anne was a powerful warrior princess for the Eternal Good.  She was Xena with a love for children, the poor, and the lonely.  She was an Amazon of loving service with breast burned off from the caring.  Anne was a juggernaut of joy for babies, puppies and all in need.  She was Wonder Woman, packing a bus with diapers for the needy or planning alternative giving opportunities for our congregation.  She was a front line trooper who threw herself into the fray.

If anyone wanted her dead, it was the Enemy, the Evil One.  Perhaps Anne was marked as a high-value target in this particular battle.  There is no question that killing her has had profound secondary effects.  I live in the blast radius of that attack every day, and the temptations to despair have been huge.  Collateral damage among those of us who loved her has been extreme.

But the Enemy made a strategic error.  Even in her dying, Anne carried the fight to the Enemy with her courage, determination, and love.  Her dying was another victory in the war, a witness in itself to the powers of Faith, Hope and Love.  As I carried a check to the Nebraska Synod offices for Tanzania ministry in Anne's name, another victory was won.  As I bring a gift to the Bryan School of Nursing, the battle continues.  Even as I shared her clothing with the Bridges to Hope warehouse, she continues to give life to those in need.

Our Annie was no kidnapped slave, no dancing girl in the heavenly courts.  She was an Innocent who was slaughtered, but she died for the cause.  She was a soldier in the battle.  She gave her life everyday for Love, for the Innocent who died first for her.  What I know today is that my life is taken up in that same battle.  We worked and fought together for a lifetime--her lifetime--in that great battle.  I promise, dear one, in the name of Jesus to continue the fight.  It has been a privilege to serve with you.