As a girl, I visited the Holocaust museum in Los Angeles - an experience I may NEVER forget. If you haven't ever been, I urge you to. But be prepared. The tour includes pictures, video, audio, and documents that will move you. But there is also a section of the tour that includes an experience (or at least it did when I was there over 15 years ago). I remember it clearly because, being around 14 years old or so, it shook me. At one point in the museum tour, the guide steps away and a "Nazi" soldier comes to separate families into groups - laborers (men, mostly); women, children, and handicapped; and other "undesirables". The groups then walk to separate areas of the museum. Being a girl, I was sent into a long hallway, lit only by 3 small hanging bulbs, and I was told I was going to be "showered". The lights went out, a distant locking sound clicked on the other side of the large chamber-style door, frantic shouts in German, and the sound of spraying gas into the pitch-black. I felt the room shrink around me. It only lasted about 30 seconds before the lights were back on and we were escorted to another hallway where I was reunited with my parents. Because I was a young girl, I was told, I would likely have been executed in the gas chamber. My dad, strong and stout, went to an area where they given hand tools and directions, in loud, hurried German, for work that would have lasted all day. My mom was also executed in a gas chamber. This experience, though controlled, dramatized, and severely decreased, shook me. How lucky I felt to be born in my generation, and to be Aryan! But my pride quickly vanished upon seeing the pictures of children around my age that were not as fortunate.
Today was a little different. No gas chamber today. No separation from my family. No unfamiliar voices shouting unreasonable demands. Just row after row of faces, somber, desperate faces, silently crying out for justice. And it absolutely broke my heart.
I did very well during the tour until we came to a display with a large photograph. A Nazi soldier stood behind his rifle and prepared to shoot at a woman holding a toddler in her arms. The caption explained that in this way the Nazi would only need to waste one bullet to kill them both. I was not able to contain the tears. I tried to be discrete but it was in vain. I felt a pain in my chest that was both emotional and physical. I knew it would be foolish but a part of me couldn't help but silently cry out to God for this poor woman. I can't begin to imagine what prayers she offered up frantically in the final moments of her life - for her and for her child. I could hear in the recesses of my mind faint distant screaming of that poor baby, and the mother trying to muffle the child, hoping she might not irritate his trigger finger. How her heart must've desperately screamed out! And my tears could not be contained.
We then went to watch a brief video of Holocaust survivors. Each one told of suffering and pain unimaginable to anyone who had not witnessed it for themselves. I have no words for the stories that were told to me through the mouths of these brave souls. Part of me fought the urge to cry while another fought the urge to vomit. My heart flip-flopped between compassion and disgust. I felt waves of sympathy in between the waves of aggression. Once the movie ended, I felt so emotionally drained that I wasn't sure if I had the strength to get up from my seat.
Over a year ago, I earnestly prayed that my heart would break for the things that break the heart of God. I wanted Him to move me. I wanted Him to shake me and open my eyes to the things that matter most to Him. I wanted Him to show me how to further His kingdom, not mine. And today, I felt my soul being wrung out. As terribly sad as it is to see the kind of hatred that was demonstrated over 70 years ago, I realize that this kind of cruel treatment happens in the world today - and goes largely uncontested. If I truly want to know where God's heart is, I need to look into the eyes of His children and see how they are being treated. The children of Darfur, the children of Somalia, and millions of abused, neglected, and otherwise mistreated children of God that occupy our globe... that's where God's heart is. And it breaks for them. I imagine myself as a young child harassing my brother, and looking up into the disappointed eyes of my father, shaking his head... and I know that on a much bigger scale, my Heavenly Father must be doing the same thing.
Don't fail to do something just because you can't do everything.
-Bob Pierce, founder of WorldVision
I'm not sure what I can do just yet. I'm not sure what God wants me to do just yet. But I feel certain that I heard Him speak to me today. My eyes are open. My spirit is willing. Instructions to follow...
Meanwhile, I urge you to find a similar museum to visit. I think Holocaust museums are interesting because it's "recent history". But there are so many human interest museums you can visit. Find a way to be informed, and be open-minded. Make yourself aware and understanding to people who are different from you.
After all, in the end, we meet our fate together.
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