Game Changer

Have you heard terrible stories? Oh yes. We all have. In fact, we hear horrible things every single day and are so desensitized to them that most of them just pass through our minds without anything more than a simple thought that says, “That’s a shame” or “What a tragedy”. And then, we continue on with our lives as if nothing happened. We go to work and focus on our everyday tasks. We experience frustration over meaningless concerns like someone not letting off their brake fast enough when the light turns green, or a loved one not living up to our expectations. We just live. Or do we? Is a life with a routine really a life? Get up at 6 am, turn the knob in the shower, soap up, rinse off, get dressed, do what you did yesterday, what is done every day. It takes the living out of living. Indeed, I believe that is only functioning.

 

Which brings us to “Little Bee” by Chris Cleave. I bet you are wondering what changed my life? Why the dramatic Facebook status? It will be difficult to explain but I’ll do my best. It was this book. You have heard terrible stories, but not like this one. Basically, the book opens in England where a Nigerian refugee is being released from an immigration detention center. She has lived an unimaginably difficult life. In any case, she makes a phone call to a couple, Andrew and Sarah O’Rourke, the only two people in England that she knows. Andrew picks up and after hearing her ask for help frightfully hangs up on her. Soon after, Andrew commits suicide. Horrible story? That’s only the beginning.

 

 Sarah and Little Bee are the two central characters of the story. Before they are reunited, they continually think of the day that they met in their minds, Little Bee hoping to forget it and Sarah pretending it never happened. This goes on for about 100 pages. When Little Bee does show up on Sarah’s porch at 8am the day of Andrew’s funeral, after some distress on Sarah’s part, they begin to talk about what actually happened that day.

 

The year that Sarah and Andrew had gone to visit Nigeria on vacation, there was an oil war going on that they knew nothing about. Little Bee and her sister Kindness (names they had made up for themselves) were on the run from the men who had killed everyone in their village. Sarah and Andrew were trying to enjoy the beach a little while before they had to go back to their hotel compound. The guard from the compound came to warn them around the same time Little Bee and her sister came running onto the same beach. The sound of the men coming with their dogs was audible.

 

Six men came running after them out of the jungle. At this point terrified would not even begin to explain how I would feel. It’s difficult to describe how much emotion and fear and horror is packed within these pages by giving a synopsis. Really, you’d have to read it yourself. But after a short conversation, the men gave Andrew a choice and a responsibility. They wanted him to use their blade to cut off his middle finger to represent how many times they had “taken the middle finger from the white man”. Otherwise, they would kill the little girls slow and painfully.

 

Kindness said, “Do not be afraid. If they kill us today, we will eat bread tonight with Jesus.”

Despite her calm response, Sarah begged him in tears to do it so they wouldn’t have to die. He swung and missed. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

That’s when Sarah lost it. She lost her fears and lost her faith in her husband and assumed that they were all going to die anyway. Andrew wasn’t a man to her anymore because he couldn’t make the sacrifice. So, she did instead. She took the blade and chopped off her own finger because her husband wouldn’t. The man accepted it, but at a price.

‘He reached down and picked up my dead finer. He pointed it at Little Bee.

“You will live,” he said. “The missus has paid for your life.”

Then he pointed my finger at Kindness.

“But you will die, little one,” he said. “The mister would not pay for you. And my boys, you know, must have their taste of blood.”

Kindness gripped Little Bee’s hand. She held her head up.

“I am not afraid,” she said. “The Lord is my shepherd.”’

 

I want you to pretend for a minute that these things had happened to you, just for a minute. Comfortable little you in your everyday life going about your daily routine. You would think you had traveled into the darkest portion of hell. Well, I am here to tell you, reading this in its entirety, was like living it. Didn’t help that the characters name was Sarah.

 

I was full on weeping last night, questioning everything about the life I’m living. Is it enough to love God and to be a Christian? Is it really enough to believe that He died on the cross for me? Comfortable little me in my comfortable little bed in my comfortable little life. ‘Things like this actually happen to people?’ I thought. ‘While I am going about my life are things like this really happening elsewhere?’ And as if Christ was speaking to me, a hollow and heartfelt yes echoed through my mind.

 

 God it is SO easy for us to say “I fear not for the Lord is with me.” What do we truly have to fear? There are psychos in America just like any other place, and with the exception of people who have suffered tortuous rape, things like the Sandy Hook shooting, having a severe form of cancer, etc. Are we really suffering?? Of course I’m not. God knows I don’t suffer. And that is why, in the minutes I read the pages of this book, I asked myself in that moment would I be cowardly Andrew, or courageous Sarah, as if both of them represented parts of me. If a sacrifice from me could save someone’s life, could I do that? Even a small part of me, like a finger, is that bravery inside of me? And what about Kindness, little girl that she was, facing a slow and painful and humiliating death with these men abusing her all the way, drinking the blood of the dead. Kindness, knowing the horror, raising her head and saying “The Lord is my shepherd.” I can’t even fathom this. I can’t relate and I can’t imagine ever having faith that defeats the worst kind of death I can think of.

 

Which led my mind to another question; Have I taken Christ’s suffering for granted? That caused more tears and shame. Have I? Has it been so ingrained in my mind that I forget how painful it would be to have nails through your feet and hands and hang by them for hours? And for the innocent to suffer… And for the innocent to sacrifice for someone else.

 
I really don’t know what else to say if anyone has even read all of this. This book changed my life, and I’m not even finished with it yet. Things that seemed important to me before aren’t anymore. From here, I don’t even know what to do with myself. But this is a game changer. And it changed me. If you don’t understand this, if to you I’m just some crazy radical Christian girl, that’s okay with me. Sometimes being a little radical is a good thing. If you think I’m crazy period, that’s fine. I’ve decided that living to please other people is not nearly as important or effective as living to help them. Hopefully soon I’ll figure out how to do that. More updates soon.