The Street Where She Lives

I’ve been thinking a lot about this misconception we have as Christians, that like, if were good little girls and boys God will give us a treat. Kind of like….I don’t know. Like, if I don’t misbehave then I will have everything I could hope for. If I eat my peas at dinner time and don’t talk back to my father when we disagree, then I’ll get a little extra something when the time comes.

It’s just crap. I mean, I’m not sure where that came from, but it is. And it has to be said. There’s a lot of things that we don’t talk about within this realm of Christianity and the church, I mean, if we still call ourselves that. It’s like, can’t we just talk? I’m not saying, “if you feel it, say it, go ahead–proclaim it” but I am saying who are we to say–if I do this, God will do this? That’s pure speculation.

I moved to Folsom a couple weeks ago. The night I got here I left the airport and drove home and the street where I live was totally empty. During the day time it’s normally bustling with life and activity but on this night, a couple days before Christmas, it was just so crystal clear out. I was by myself and I just felt this wave of relief come over me. That this thing that had been chasing me lost my scent and couldn’t find me any more.

There’s a song I truly love that no one seems to know about, from the movie My Fair Lady. Me and God have a thing for this song, so I’m just kinda gonna leave it….here.

I kind of feel like this is how God feels when we meet Him where He is. I wonder if He was singing this song, when I got here.

I’ve had a lot of anxiety and turmoil in my heart off and on, of course, a lot of it of my own making. However, there is nothing no not one thing that is not in the hands of my God.

This should relieve me, this knowing, that though I throw the dice He will decide where they fall.

Yet I am not relieved.

But He sings to me, on the street where I live.

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