Grace Amidst Violence

Even in my dream I had to flee and run for my life – a post trauma effect which I never had in the past – a disturbing paranoia from one’s violent act. To be watchful, to be vigilant, and to be stronger than ever before from this intimidating attack – then I’d be forced to fight back protecting myself in case another assault happens. Help me, God!

This psychotic man has been a miscreant, a big loser even with the past teachers. No one could stand his temper or ego or his lousy behavior. The teachers and all the volunteers had to evade from his unbearable presence. And so did this little man (me) as the newest victim as far as I know.

I have featured him once two months ago in my effort to protect my children in the village; a fake philanthropist whose intention but evil desire sexually harassing some of the kids. We all knew it, and I was the last one to know. 

“Come on, is this what I get for running away from trouble?” I murmured in pain falling from the bicycle.

The onrush happened exactly a week ago after teaching my late evening class. He had been harassing me, sending threat messages, and disturbing me a lot of times prior to this. Like a timid creature in disguise, he was standing outside our school. The moment he saw me, he was transformed quickly into a hungry hyena ready to devour his prey.

As a normal reaction, I tried to ignore him and did what I was taught about – to avoid as much as necessary – I thought would help. When I noticed his strange move, I pedaled my bike immediately as fast as I could in the middle of a busy, main road to save my life; and for another chance to live. I could hear him screaming violently, freaking out crazily, cursing and cussing endlessly, and running after me as fast as he could to hurt me or maybe wanted me dead.

When I was away, and became invisible in his presence, that’s when another careless motorbike rider ruined my day – I fell from my bicycle wounded and bleeding.

A man in his thirty's behaving such things? I haven't seen such a British guy like this in my entire life - only here and only him so far. I wonder how he is like back in his country. It chills me to the bone.

Thanks to my supportive boss, and to the rest of the staff for the support they had during this awful situation.We had done our best to pacify the incident and made every possible way for a truce, even if I'm faultless.

Unfortunately, I don't trust him and so I'm always careful about what this insane man can do. It is better safe than sorry, I was told. I've been constantly telling my self and others that I'd be forced to fight back in case the same thing happens again - not that I hate him or want him dead, but purely self-defense.
   

At first, I wanted to just keep it here and didn't bother to tell my family and friends back home. That wasn't a good idea, I know. More than all this hazardous concern, just didn't want to talk about him because he isn't worth writing or mentioning at all. But rest assured I wasn't in total silence and told my friends here instead about this attempted murder. They have been praying for me. Thanks for the prayers.

As I was preparing my lesson the other day, I happened to browse a page in one of the books - a slogan which gave me the courage to stand up against violence - a memo of God's strength - a sufficient grace in the midst of violence.

And in this grace I am reminded to respond in love and not in hatred. That's so human tendency to be filled with anger and hate after all these things, but then as God's child I understand that it shouldn't be counterfeited this way except for preliminary measures putting the matters legally for the sake of everybody's peace.  

And in this grace I am exhorted of to trust in Him who sees every little danger rather than do it my way. Of course, I have to watch and pray.

And in this slogan, a provision of grace is where I took the boldness to put all my thoughts into writing - my worries and fears, every bit of paranoia, being a victor, and so my thanksgiving and praise for the safety each single moment.   

For thirteen years away from home, I never had such serious craziness like this one, not even an accident. But again, it is in this someone's insanity I have come to fully grasp the feeling of being assaulted, threatened to death, a victim of violence, a prisoner of fear and silence, and being weak to fight for the truth - not anymore.

Above all this, I have learned to cry for more mercy and grace.