‘God doesn’t want anyone to be destroyed. He wants everyone to come to repentance’ – Peter, aka The Rock, in 2 Peter 3:9
I remember the day I saw the video. Muammar Qaddafi, the man responsible for countless acts of terrorism, had been found hiding in a culvert by revolutionaries seeking to end his reign in Libya. The video depicted an old man in the hands of his enemies, being led through the streets and pelted by rocks. The crowd mocked him as he was led away to his death. He appeared bewildered and begged for mercy. The rocks continued to fly. So did the fists. The crowd was having a good time watching their enemy suffer. Thankfully the network cut the video before the most brutal part. In the end, Qaddafi was shot several times while pleading for his life.
The video affected me in an unexpected way. I had been trained from my High School days to see this man as the enemy – a brutal thug who needed to be brought to his knees. Here he was, being brought to his knees. Justice was being served. Qaddafi was getting what he so richly deserved.
But I didn’t feel any of that. Instead, as I watched Qaddafi beg for his life and saw the profound sadness in his eyes, the bewilderment he felt as he realized his life had come to this, I found myself feeling sorry for him. I even found myself praying for him. Specifically, I found myself praying that God had used those final moments to draw Qaddafi to Himself, that he might realize the futility of his former ways, repent of all he had done, and fall into the arms of Jesus.
I could hardly believe it. Why was I feeling sorry for a guy like Qaddafi? What in the world was wrong with me? So much of the world was rejoicing. Celebrating the notion that he would rot in hell. And there I was, yes, this is true, with tears in my eyes, praying for his salvation.
Seriously, what was wrong with me?
But then I remembered Good Times.
For those of you too young to remember, Good Times was a 1970s comedy loosely based on the play, A Raisin in the Sun. It chronicled the lives of the Evans family – an African American family living in the projects on the south side of Chicago. The most famous character was the eldest son, J.J. Evans, whose signature, ‘Dy-no-mite!’ was all the rage for a time. Other characters included J.J.’s siblings, Thelma and Michael, their parents, James and Florida, and of course, their nosy next-door neighbor Wilona.
One episode had a profound impact upon me. It revolved around J.J. falling in with the wrong crowd. He had taken up with a street gang, whose leader was a dude called ‘Mad Dog.’ I remember his first introduction to the family. After meeting Thelma, he laughed and said, ‘Thelma? What kind of mother would give birth to a daughter and name her Thelma?’ Thelma shot back, ‘the same kind of mother who would give birth to a boy and name him ‘Mad Dog!’ The long and the short of the story is that the Evans family tries to keep J.J. from further involvement with Mad Dog’s gang, and when J.J. attempts to break away, Mad Dog shoots him. Fortunately, J.J. pulls through. Mad Dog, however, is left to pay the piper in a court of law.
J.J.’s father, James, Sr., goes to the courthouse for Mad Dog’s sentencing hearing to make sure the punishment is as severe as it should be. He tells his wife Florida that if the judge doesn’t do his job, he will take care of the matter himself. As the hearing unfolds, it looks like it just might come to that. The judge is told there is no room in the jail, so Mad Dog escapes with probation. James Evans Sr. is livid. The man who shot his own son is getting away scot-free. Mad Dog walks out of the courtroom, cocky as ever, followed by his mother, and then James, loaded for bear. Just as he is about to turn the corner and confront the man who shot his son, he hears Mad Dog arguing with his mother, and in the course of listening to the argument, he learns a thing or two about Mad Dog’s past.
Mad Dog had a pretty rough life. Among other things, he had been abandoned by his father. He and his mom argue some more, and the mother walks away. She informs her son that she is washing her hands of him forever. Mad Dog shouts, ‘Fine! Leave me just like everyone else! See if I care!’ That’s when Mad Dog notices that James is standing around the corner. He runs over to him and says, with tears in his eyes, ‘You want to hit me, go ahead and hit me!’ James suddenly can’t do it; ‘I don’t want to hit you son,’ is all he can say. Mad Dog gets angrier, ‘Go on man, hit me, everyone else does!’ James again refuses, ‘No son, I won’t hit you.’ Mad Dog shouts, ‘Stop it! Why are you calling me son? Don’t call me Son! What’s the matter with you! What’s the matter with all of you!’ And then, tearfully, Mad Dog walks away.
Florida comes around the corner. She’s heard everything. She goes to James and holds him. James breaks down. ‘I had him Florida,’ he says, ‘he even asked me to hit him, and I couldn’t do it. What’s wrong with me? Tell me, what kind of a father feels sorry for the man who shot his own son?’
I’ll never forget Florida’s response, ‘the right kind James – the right kind.’
Even as a kid that brought tears to my eyes. It does even now. It taught me something about mercy, understanding, and forgiveness. It taught me about the kind of love that leads us to feel sorry for our enemies. That episode, and especially that line – ‘the right kind James – the right kind,’ has had a profound impact on the way I think and act, at least in my better moments, down to this day.
And so, I suppose that maybe, the reason I felt sorry for Qaddafi had a lot to do with James Evans. Blame it on Good Times.
Or maybe, blame it on God.
Because you see, God loves and understands people the way James Evans does. He loves and understands all the Mad Dogs of the world. He understands why they are the way they are. Even Qaddafi. In fact, from the very foundations of eternity, he saw Qaddafi, and a whole slew of others like him who might make you want to turn violent yourself and said, ‘I love these guys. I love them so much that I have decided to die for them that they might be restored.’
And if God thinks that way, shouldn’t we?
Which is why, to this day, whenever I think of Qaddafi’s last moments, I still feel sorry for him. And I hope that somehow, God in his infinite and matchless grace found a way to reach him. Even if it was at the very threshold of eternity. I hope that something happened between the two of them that led to Qaddafi’s repentance, and that someday, at the ‘universal restoration of all things’ (Acts 3:21), when everything is restored to the way God intends it to be, Qaddafi will be there, renewed by Jesus, living as the man God intended him to be.
And if that bothers you, well, what can I say? Take it up with James Evans.
Or better still, take it up with the God who desires everyone to come to repentance.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
Note: the image featured above is a portion of an early work of art from the catacombs. The full image imagines the scene from the Last Judgment as described in Matthew 25: 31-46. The portion shown here depicts Jesus rescuing a goat.