It's not your fault

In his book A Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah tells the true story of his life as a child soldier in Sierra Leone. He tells of the near starvation that forced him to join the Army, of the way he was taught to kill using a machine gun at the age of twelve, and of his horror as he watched women and children shot to death—their bodies mangled—their blood seeping into the ground.

After three or four years, Ishmael was taken to Freetown, where he was put in a rehabilitation hospital. There was a young female nurse there who listened to him. He suffered from migraines and nightmares; he would lash out at the smallest provocation and become violent or sullen. And she would listen. All this nurse said, over and over again, was It's not your fault.

It's not your fault. This was her way of telling him that God is near—that everything is OK—that the kingdom of heaven is near.

At first, her words infuriated him. Then they began to sink in, and he began to tell her more and more about the horrors he had seen and the horrors he had performed. And she would say it again: It's not your fault.

Ishmael had to leave that place without ever telling her how much she meant to him—that he loved her. Later, he would wonder how she did it—how she listened to such horror with such patience. How could she stand it?

Jesus told his disciples that he would be coming after them. They were not responsible for the final outcome. They were to give the message and to minister as best they could, but the rest would be God's doing. Only Jesus could clean up the mess. Perhaps this young woman knew her role. Perhaps that was what gave her the strength to listen, and to tell war-ravaged children that the kingdom of God is near.

- The Very Rev. Kate Moorehead