I used to curl up in the living room in front of our television with the rest of the family for The Closer every Monday night.  Mainly because of the fact that the main character was Chief Brenda Lee Johnson, played by Kyra Sedgwick.  I have a high respect for the lady who would not only close most every single case but win and allowed chocolate to be her side kick.  As the TNT series was coming to an end, we were introduced to a boy called Rusty.

Rusty is a teenage boy who was found in downtown Los Angeles by the Major Crimes division of the LAPD when it was determined he was the key witness to a murder.  By the series finale, Rusty was needing to be kept in protective custody.  Therefore, he went home to stay with Captain Sharon Rayder.  Cue the opening music to the spin-off show Major Crimes.  That tradition of settling in and turning the tv to TNT has continued with Major Crimes.  For the most part the cast is the same, but Rusty’s story is now the common thread that ties each week together.  Rusty is the reason that I tune in!

Over the past couple of weeks, we have learned that Rusty was abandoned by his mom when she left him for her boyfriend.  The same boyfriend who used to pound Rusty’s face until the day that Rusty beat the crap out of him.  The very next day is when mom and said boyfriend took him to the zoo and never came back for him.  My blood is boiling even while I type this!  I cannot fathom a mom choosing her abusive boyfriend over her son.  Since the night we learned Rusty’s mom wasn’t coming back, Captain Rayder has had folks on the search for Rusty’s dad (whom Rusty had never met).  Last night, after only two episodes of Rusty’s dad being in the picture, Sharon came home to find Rusty with black eyes and a busted lip.  When she asked him what happened, we learned his dad had done this to him.  WHAT IN THE WORLD?!?!  Again, I cannot fathom what it must feel like to be Rusty.

There I sat, curled up on the opposite end of the couch of my own dad.  My dad who has been the spiritual leader of our house my entire life, Jesus in the flesh.  My dad who loves my mom and all three of us crazy girls.  My dad who has empowered me to think for myself and supported my decisions, even the ones he did not necessarily understand at the time.  How is it fair that I hit the jackpot when it comes to dads and there are kids like Rusty all over the place?  I come home to sober parents, who have created a safe home for, not just the three girls born to them but, all of our friends too.  It’s not unusual to walk in and find our friends visiting with our parents when we weren’t even there, but there are other kids who have never heard the words “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” come from their parents’ mouths.  That’s not okay with me!

I know God is stirring up something in my heart, something that’s going to allow me to stand in the gaps for kids like Rusty.  I’m not gonna lie, it freaks me out a little because I know it’s probably not going to make sense to a lot of people.  It’s not going to allow me to be safe and I like to feel safe.  Like, a LOT.  Parts of it are a little scary and I can’t stand to be scared.  I love Christmas, not Halloween.

The thing is though, I’m also being reminded that the heart of God is not always a safe place to be.  In fact, it’s usually pretty unsafe.  If I want to go with God, I have to be willing to build an ark and ride it for forty days and forty nights with snakes, spiders, and mosquitoes.  If I want to go with God, I have to be willing to lay my son on the altar knowing God will provide the ram.  It’s not all adding up to me, but faith usually doesn’t…

Right?

RIGHT?!?