Be the Virus

Today is World Aids Day. I was first reminded of this in International Relations where we talked (and talked and talked) about international health care and epidemic crises (my teacher is Indian,  so when she says crisis, she rolls the "r", much to Terrence's delight). I have to say, after my 4 a.m. bedtime last night, staying engaged in the topic was next to impossible. 

But then I got an e-mail today from Samaritan's Purse, Franklin Graham's international ministry. The tagline, if you will, for this years campaign against AIDS is "Be the Virus." It is unsettling at first, no? It was to me because it seemed a bit graphic. A little intense. And, yes, a little cheesy. However, I clicked the link (because however crazy the phrase sounds, it is attention-grabbing so someone is doing their job right) and the website is crazy informative. Much more engaging than my political science class and, predictably, more hopeful. That could just be the idealist in me. Still, I prefer to approach the crisis in a personally empowering, faithful way, rather than the overwhelming political method, which suggests that ultimately the power to end the crisis lies within and is the responsibility of various governments. Certainly Christians are not the only people hoping to bring the spread of this disease to an end. It is both a scientific and a political reality that cannot be avoided. But I love that Christians are at the forefront of aiding those afflicted and challenging those who are not to give. Give time, give money, give resources, spread information, give love, give hope. This hope is what makes the Christian approach unique. It offers a cure for the big picture. It tells of a Great Physician who sent His son to combat illness on this Earth and offer eternal life. This hope must be spread as quickly, as aggressively, as fervently as the virus. And it must be done in love. 

Because AIDS isn't just a far off disease in Africa. It is right here in the US, the majority of the cases found in homosexuals. And judgment makes us irrelevant to this population. It can't be "oh, you're gay but I love you." It has to start with I love you. And prayer. Maybe my prayers for these people will offend them, which is why I must also be relevant. It can't just be "I'll pray for you." I've got to offer help. It's the number one way Jesus reached people-- by meeting their needs. And the only way He was able to do so was through a relationship with the Father. This has to be the priority as we seek to meet physical needs on this Earth. It is this relationship that spreads the virus of hope. Cheesy? Maybe. But true. And it really convicted me today. Especially because the best example I have of this love for the AIDS afflicted community comes, yet again, from my mom. She spent so many of my childhood years caring for two men under a Care team program, which existed to basically help people die of AIDS. These were normal people who needed medical help, some meals and frequent visits, if just to have a friendly face and some conversation. Trudy is always good for a smile, a chat, some eats and nursing skills. So good, in fact, that she won an award from the R.A.I.N. organization that sponsored her program. 

The plaque that sits on our piano does nothing to reflect the impact she had on Pat and Greg's lives... but it is a start. And it is a reminder to me that opportunity for action is not far away and is not above the capabilities of a middle-aged white woman in Little Rock, Arkansas. It does, however, take a strength much mightier than my own to show the depths of mercy and faith in the face of overwhelming scientific, political, and social odds. Or in my Mom's case, to sit at the deathbed of two men in a coma, reading the Bible out loud, praying it would take heart. And then to attend their funerals not knowing if it had or not. Thank you, God, for being that strength to my mom. Would you please spur me on to know this strength for myself?

"Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when it is in your power to act." 

-Proverbs 3:27