Most people only see the crime. They see the mugshot, the handcuffs, the headline. But behind every outburst, every theft, every moment of rage—there's a cry. A soul bleeding silently. A child inside the man, desperate for attention, protection, or love.
Jamal was 17 when he held up a corner store. The cameras caught the whole thing, and the court labeled him a thug. But what the footage didn't show was that Jamal hadn't eaten in two days. That his mom was addicted to heroin. That he'd been raising his little brother since he was ten. Jamal wasn't just a criminal—he was a kid trying to survive.
This doesn't excuse crime, but it gives it context. Most bad boys didn't start out bad—they were made by circumstance. They adapted to pain, scarcity, violence. The world taught them to defend themselves with fists, with lies, with fear.
God doesn't just look at the action—He sees the heart. When Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well, He knew her past, her shame, and her thirst for love. Yet He didn't shame her. He revealed Himself to her.
In the same way, God meets us at our lowest, not to judge us but to heal us. If your life has been marked by crime or chaos, know this: God hears your cry. He has always heard it. And He still answers.