Christmas night, 2004. I was at my grandparents' house in Jennings and we heard three gunshots very close, in the street outside. We were somewhat relieved when the police showed up a few minutes later and hung around a bit, but they soon left again (obviously, there's only so much they can do). Maybe 15-30 minutes later, there were about 5 more shots. I thank God that no one in the neighborhood was hurt. Still, loading our car to return home was a real experience; any car that drove by made me nervous (especially one that drove halfway down the street, then seeing the police proceeded to turn around in a driveway and return from where it came).

When you feel your life is in danger, you tend to think bigger. I've been in a bit of an ideal land this Christmas season, looking for some kind of epic happy-ending lifestyle (ultimately this will happen, with Christ, but I have been wrongly looking to live in some sort of dream world in this life). This helped me see beyond it, if only for a little while--until the insular suburbia wraps its arms of consumerism and placidity around me, lulling me into a false bliss of false ignorance (Matthew 13:22).

I'm shamed that I had fear in that time, but I'm still trying to work out what caused the fear. Fear for one's life is natural, though fear of death would be wrong of me (do I doubt my salvation? do I doubt God's promises?).

Somewhat related: the hardest person to minister to may very well be the one who has possessions (and finds satisfaction in them) and thinks himself wise. The combination of worldly pacification with pride is the thickest and most durable fortification of blindness I've ever encountered. Still, we all encounter want and sadness in our lives, and the Word of God is sharper than any double-edged sword, so there is hope.

I don't know if these big words are true to me. Pride or clarity?

Words and pictures copyright slav2emoshns