Update: Since the original date of publishing this post: Closing arguments have begun today in the trial of Harve Johnson. The trial is expected to wrap up in the next week. City Church has been meeting for 10 weeks, sharing the transforming hope of the Gospel in York City. I intend to write more when the trial is completed. Pray for the peace and prosperity of York City

Original post written April 7, 2009
(Spanish Version can be found here)

Today marks the one year anniversary of Darisabel’s death. One year of painful memories. One year of daily reliving the monstrous beating Darisabel took at the hands of a troubled young man. One full year that her grandparents, under-20 uncles, and close friends were refused the opportunity to lavish love and gifts on her for Christmas and her third birthday. One terrible year where any bright moment that might burst forth was overshadowed by the constant memories and preliminary hearings. My gut says that this coming year won’t be much better. Darisabel’s mother and her boyfriend will stand trial for their respective roles in Darisabel’s death. The trial stands to be a graphic reminder of a day we would all like to forget. Just last week, I sat at a pre-trial hearing and in a short time quietly went through the whole range of emotions: rage, sadness, disbelief, and just feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach.

Some of our newer readers may not know City Church’s connection, so I’ll briefly explain. Darisabel was my little neighbor girl, a playmate of my own two year old, Amelia. Darisabel is the little girl in the pictures with pigtails and earrings. They loved spending time together. Darisabel was often in our backyard playing with the kids or roaming through the house when we babysat her. She was a beautiful little girl with the most dazzling blue eyes, simply enchanting. I can still picture her near the open window that faces our house calling, “Amelia, Amelia!”

I can still remember the day we heard the news. There was a three month window in the winter where we had not seen Darisabel. We knew her mother was dating a new guy that neither we nor Darisabel’s family had met. Elizabeth, Darisabel and the new boyfriend were now living on Philadelphia Street and kept their distance from us all.

On April 8, 2008, I picked up my copy of the York Daily Record and read the headline story about a two-year old girl who was beaten to death with an XBOX controller. The story had only one picture of the mother with a name I didn’t recognize, Neida Baez. Her face was haunting. I was moved to tears without even knowing the connection. I stared at Neida’s picture over and over and even told my wife the story. I swore that the woman looked like Darisabel’s mother, Elizabeth, but the connection seemed impossible. I knew Elizabeth. I never believed for a moment that she would have been capable of allowing something like this. My wife, Gail, took the kids to school that morning and returned to horrifying news from Darisabel’s grandmother. The front door to our house flew open with Gail weeping and wailing uncontrollably. “Aaron,” she screamed, “it was Darisabel.”

Never in my life have I experienced those kind of feelings. Gail and I both went about a week without much sleep. We wept bitterly at all hours of the day. Composure was something that I didn’t have for a while. In my line of work, one deals with a lot of death, suffering, and the lowest depths of human possibility, but this was deeper than anything for which I had been prepared. I couldn’t hold it together talking with my Mom or my buddies who were pastors. To top it off, the family asked me to perform the funeral service, which I gladly did in partnership with Pastor Euphemia, a Hispanic woman who leads a congregation in York. I spoke from Matthew 10:26-31:

There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

I reminded the packed funeral home that Darisabel was worth more than many sparrows to the Father. I spoke of the fact that God is Judge and is able to right the wrongs. The Scriptures reminded me that Divine justice for sin had been freely offered in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, a Holy Substitute, for sinners. I’m not sure how much comfort my words brought, but I have watched as God has brought His comfort to this grieving and distraught family.

One year later, I’m asking what we have learned from all of this. I have an entirely new perspective on teen pregnancy, poverty, illegal drugs, justice, and the protection of society’s weakest members. But, how have we all been changed by this? The internet is filled with buzz about the upcoming trials. Facebook groups are filled with members crying out for human and Divine justice. But, what has really changed?

At the end of the funeral service, I asked everyone there to join hands and vow to make little Darisabel’s life count for something. I’m still not entirely sure how to do this. At the end of the month, Darisabel’s grandmother and I will be attending the formation of Pennsylvania’s first Prevent Child Abuse America chapter. Raising awareness about child abuse is one thing we can help to do.

But surely there must be more. Human justice will have its day when Judge Brillhart convenes the trial. In fact, human justice must have its day because Darisabel’s blood cries out for it. It is God’s prerogative, though, to mete out Divine justice.

I find it sweetly ironic that this year, little Darisabel’s death is observed on Passion week. This week, 2000 years ago, marks the suffering of another innocent One. On a crooked old wooden cross, God the Father allowed His own little One, the Darling of Heaven, to be crucified for human sin and injustice. Divine justice has been offered for all of our sins, even the most heinous ones. Thinking about how much punishment should be inflicted on the man who tortured Darisabel is a reminder of how much God hates human sin. He hates it so much that He had to offer the Perfect One, Jesus, for our sins. Yet, Divine justice only finds satisfaction for those who embrace the gift of Jesus. There is no other satisfaction for sin than what Jesus offered for us. Isaiah 53:5 says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities, the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.”

This, in fact, is how Darisabel’s story connects to City Church. Our hope is to plant a church in York City that offers the comfort, hope, and transforming power of the Gospel of Jesus. We are firmly convinced that God used this event to call us to minister and serve among the residents of York City. And so, we intend to make Darisabel’s life count by taking the transforming power of the Gospel to people who otherwise might end up with the same fate as Harve Johnson and Neida Baez. Just maybe, some family that is touched by the Gospel will stop using violence, drugs, and sex to solve their problems, and turn their energy toward loving each other and their own little ones; little ones like Darisabel.

Amelia pranced in as I was wrapping this post up. I can’t help but kiss and hug her a little more in light of Darisabel. My heart is broken for a little girl who should have had lots of kisses and hugs from her own father, but instead had her life violently cut short by a short tempered man with a toy in his hand. I’m confident Darisabel is in a better place now. I bet last Sunday that Jesus helped throw her one awesome birthday party in heaven. I’m praying that Jesus can help our little church in York City make something good come out of Darisabel’s life.

We will never forget you Darisabel!

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