Love my enemies ... how can I do that?

IT WAS ABOUT 9:30 on an April night in Queens. I was walking down the sidewalk of a crowded, shop-lined street. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a gang attacked me.

Five or six guys slammed me to the ground, shoved me out into the street, grabbed my stuff, and started punching me and yelling at me as if I had betrayed them. They were acting as if they wanted to kill me. But I'd never even seen them before. I didn't even live around there.

Curled up in a ball, I lay there physically helpless while they pounded me furiously. But I looked the men in the eyes, and prayed out loud—right at them: "You are God's children. Each of you is God's child. You are loving and beloved." I spoke calmly because I wasn't afraid.

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In the line of duty ...
October 29, 2001
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