Sunday, July 17, 2011


I heard the car drive by and two sounds that were not good. Was it a small gun or a rock? Was it a drunk driver who clipped two cars?  I looked out the window and then noticed it was around 3am. I made a note in my mind (which was quickly misplaced) to look around in the morning.

Well since I forgot about it, it wasn't until later in the day that the kids noticed the back window of our car was shattered and glass spread around the seats and interior of the car. It was probably a rock that did the damage.

Aside from thinking about how much it was going to cost to replace the window, I started to take it personal. I felt a sense of violation. Why did someone do this to our car? Were we a target or was it random? I tend to think random because the second sound I heard made me think the same happened down the street.

Some years ago my work van was broken into. It happened in a church parking lot during a Bible study. Several thousand dollars of tools were gone and my ability to make a living. I remember how violated I felt. I spent hours thinking about what tools were in each tool box so I could buy replacements. Just yesterday, when I was helping my son repair his faucet, I was reminded of some parts that I had before the break-in that would have made the job easier. I find that you never recover completely from these things either mentally or physically.

The biggest loss from the break-in was that I no longer had some tools that my dad gave to me. He was a plumber and had given me many tools for obscure jobs that you may only use once in ten years, but without them the job is much harder. I'm sure when my tools were pawned, those items were worth nothing as the criminals both behind and in front of the counter would have had no idea what they were or their value.

So the sense of violation comes not from the loss of the tool but that I lost a part of my dad. And in this latest incident the sense of violation comes from feeling that our street is not safe. Those same vandals or others may come down the street on any night and do the same or worse damage. I woke several times last night to strange sounds, wondering what they were.

In all of this I think of God. I know he is here and I know he was there when each of these crimes were committed. I know enough of his goodness so I don't ask the question, "Why did you let this happen." I also know that in my humanness, even without that question asked, I will feel the sting of these signs of a fallen world for a long time.

God is good; all the time! I long for the new heavens and earth where only righteousness dwells.


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