Loving the Pedophile

Last evening, I asked this question. I rarely get answers for my questions. I’m ok with it because I don’t answer other blogger’s questions either. (Well, except that one girl, but she seemed like she really wanted an answer.)

“How would you choose to demonstrate authentic love towards an unrepentant child molester?”

Depending on your perception of what love is, you might believe me to be rather heartless. I have never personally known a child molester, but I did try to walk with a man named Sid who had a strong affinity for young boys. He’s had previous run ins with the law after exposing himself.

I don’t see him much anymore, but if I were ever to find that he was actually molesting children on an ongoing basis, I’d probably have him locked up. No. I don’t hate him. I really don’t. When I consider the various conversations I have had with this young man, he is burdened beneath an unimaginable burden of guilt, sin and shame. If I really love him, how could I possibly allow him to be burdened any further?

During that time, once in a while I would have a conversation with people who looked down on parents who try to protect their children. On one occasion, I asked such a man whether or not he would allow a pedophile into his home to play with his kids. I didn’t get a response. As I walked in Christian circles, I often felt guilty for not inviting Sid over for Christmas dinner, or making the effort to get him a ride to church. I'm sure he would have been willing to help with Sunday School.

I didn’t show my love to Sid by bringing him to church or inviting him into my home to play with my kids. I demonstrated my love for Sid by going ‘outside of the camp’ to where he was. I spent time with him on my own. Time after time I told him that he simply cannot indulge in his particular sexual desires. Does that not sound hateful? I did my personal best to tell him about Jesus. In prayer, I even began to pray the ‘sinners prayer’, until we got to the part where we thanked Jesus for dying for our sins. It was at this point when he told me, “I don’t really believe that He paid for my sins.” So we stopped there.

I still make myself available to Sid. When he calls, I answer. Our schedules haven’t lined up for some time, but I’m ready if they ever do. I’m still prepared to dial 911 if I find out he’s hurt some poor child. I give him money when he’s broke. Lord willing, I hope I can remember his birthday this year.

I’m no scholar, but in my mind, smiling at a life of sin is just another form of hatred.

That is how I choose to demonstrate love to Sid.

In Christian circles, we talk about throwing open the doors of church. Are there no limits to that philosophy?