They lived close to an area so fanatical and violent that it is off limits even to local police. They knew the risks, the potential cost, but they also knew that God had placed them there. Their daily life was defined by numerous friendships they had made in every level of society. They embraced the Arabic language and culture, yet made no effort as foreigners to hide. They were visible, available, approachable.

Bonnie was committed to saving and improving lives. Her work at a church-run pre-natal clinic catering to Palestinian women was the joy and drive of her life in Lebanon. She felt honored to have such an opening into families through this service. Only God knows how many lives of women and their babies have been literally saved through this work. (Infant mortality among Palestinians is four times that of the USA.) Gary and Bonnie came to Lebanon to bring life--not take it.

It is difficult to understand who would despise such loving service enough to fire three bullets point blank into her head. Bonnie was killed for being who she was, for refusing to run from hatred and for bringing dignity to a suffering people that the world has ignored. It would be easy, even natural, for us to draw back from this atrocity; to lash out in hate against whole nations or peoples; to seek revenge; to stereotype one-fifth of mankind. But Bonnie and Gary would, I believe, call us to something perhaps difficult yet supernatural: to be different because God’s way is different. To increase our concern, prayer and action on behalf of all the peoples of the Middle East. To refuse to accept the status quo either in the Middle East or in our own comfort zones. To step forward and stand in the heart-breaking gap Bonnie has left. There will never be a better time.