I wake up in the morning, sometimes struggling to get out of bed cause I’m just worn out from yesterday. My little sisters may already be awake and grumpy until mom gets them breakfast. Cartoons are blaring from the TV and dad is sipping his coffee and usually the first one ready to leave. Somewhere in the chaos I’m go through my routine like a robot. Breakfast is done. Dad left for work after kissing me on the head. Mom gathers the girls and me to pray over our day. Mom is a prayer warrior. My mind drifts to the encouragement dad spoke to me yesterday about a difficult problem I was having. I hug my sisters and head off.
Seventeen years ago, 17 year old Colorado martyr, Rachel Scott, probably woke up for another school day going through her morning routine like me. She probably shared a breakfast and some moments of encouragement and prayer before leaving for school. She arrived at school ready for another day, but she would never go home to another family meal or chaotic morning habit.
When I realize how many teens have died in school shootings since that day Rachel died I’m overwhelmed. I guess it’s just hard to fathom that they woke up, ate their pop tart or bowl of cereal and kissed their mama goodbye not realizing they or their family would ever see each other again. I can’t imagine waking up tomorrow, going through my ritual, and shortly after facing an angry or confused classmate pointing a gun at my head. I just can’t imagine it could happen to me.
Am I ready to die for my belief in Jesus?
When I heard the news last week about the 14 year old girl in Texas who was killed by her classmate, my heart immediately started pounding about the reality that teens are hurting or angry and willing to kill someone else because of it. Each shooting I see on TV now ends up being for some reason. Race, sexual preference, or religious belief.
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