Mexico is a mess. I’ll just come right out and say it. Drug gangs are ruthlessly murdering men, women and children on almost a daily basis, and the government is doing absolutely nothing to stop them. I’m sure that that sentence didn’t shock you; we’ve all heard it a hundred times since the situation started escalating. What did shock me, however, is the one thing that I haven’t heard in all of the carnage and mayhem until today: the weary, defeated words of the men who have to experience it every day.
After drug smugglers murdered 72 migrants for refusing to help them get their drugs across the border, nearly 20 hopeful migrants gave up on their long journey to freedom. Not Wilber Cuellar, though. Wilber has been deported seven times, six times from the U.S. and once from Canada, but he refuses to give up on his escape from anarchy, despite the risk. “I’m not afraid,” he told the reporter, “I’m prepared to die. I’m tired of suffering in this world.”
Those three simple sentences broke right through the layer of American thinking that protects my mind from the world. When Cuellar spoke, it wasn’t with a reporter’s casual drone or the jaded “oh, my” of the people on the safe side of the TV. There is a weariness few have experienced in his quiet, understated words, and as I read them I realized that the victims of suffering in this world are not the countries, races or people groups. They are individuals. They are the mothers of the massacred, the migrants who have given up hope – and those who have chosen to give up their lives instead. Some are afraid, some are prepared to die, but they are all tired of the suffering in this world. When will we stop caring about our own comfortable world long enough to hear the groan of the individual? And what would the world look like if we answered it?