A week ago yesterday our home was broken into. I noticed that something was awry when I went for my laptop to finalize my handout for the junior high service and couldn’t find it anywhere. My search took me around to the stairs leading to the basement when I found the back door wide open. I called our landlord and the police and, of course, Henry, who assisted me in making sure thieves were no longer still in the house. With pocket knives drawn we investigated every nook and cranny for invaders, whose lives were spared due to their, well… Absence.
The creep (or creeps) made off with my laptop, my wallet, and a ring Kristin’s grandma gifted to her before she passed away. No doubt the burglars were dismayed to mostly find lots of books in our humble abode (given that none were missing it appears they’re not super keen on reading). My lesson plans for the next few Wednesdays are now kaput, as are the first few chapters of a novel and some short story fragments. A beloved heirloom is who knows where now but despite these provocations of the enemy our joy has not been stolen. God has commanded Jesus’ words to lay up treasure in heaven to resound in my head every day since then and it’s been pounding a blessed dent into my heart. Through this I feel my old grip on stuff being loosened by God’s gracious hand and consequently I can thank God for something as inconvenient as a burglary and relish that He is using something even as bogus as that to make me more like His son. Our God is so utterly unique that He uses every single thing in the universe for the good of wimpy, cosmic dust such as ourselves! Praise God.