Like a Little Child

Life was simpler living at home, being little. Under the umbrella of protection from Mom and Dad, we didn't have bills to pay, insurance premiums, or car payments, we just lived...sheltered from the ills of this world, like the murder count in Philadelphia on the news and late-night television in all its latent perversion.

Jesus seemed closer then. There were a lot fewer things in between us--me and Jesus. Fewer responsibilities, less stress, more time to think and reflect. No CSI, no scantily clad Victoria's Secret commercials, and adult novelty stores weren't on every corner.

Gay rights groups weren't rallying to make free speech a hate crime and weren't yet a political force. You could still buy a gallon of gas for under two dollars, and the Cosby show was actually on TV, not in syndication.

I enjoyed youth group, and driving to Perkins or Denny's for late night coffee or pancakes with friends, going over to Mamma Moodies house for cappucino and a chat. I went on short term missions trips, and life just seemed on the whole, more wholesome.

Now I have to worry about turning on the TV in my house. What images will come forth from its unholy depths?

Maybe there aren't more things, now struggling to get between Jesus and me, perhaps just different ones. The weight of adulthood is heavier than that of childhood or adolescence, and it begs the question: Is somebody out to get me? You bet.

It would be ignorance to think that the forces of evil could care less about "little ole me." Perhaps the full weight of the devil doesn't come to bare upon one suburban Philadelphian working at a small, Christian seminary, but I never doubt he wants me to fail at my Christian walk and that he constantly seeks to create stumbling blocks for me, no matter how small in the grand scheme of life. That's what his minions are for. Fortunately, I don't have to fear him or any of them, because of Jesus. Amen?

In the face of murder, despair, the loss of a loved one

In the face of inequity, prejudice, tragedy

In the face of fear, trapped miners underground in Utah:

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness,

I dare not trust the sweetest fame but wholly lean on Jesus name

On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand

All other ground is sinking sand.