About 10 a.m. last Tuesday, I walked out of a magazine office in a nice section of a nice city and found myself in the middle of a mugging. Literally.
The mugger briefly focused her attention on me. But, within seconds, an elderly woman was down in the street. And, the mugger, young and cherubic of face, was sprinting away. Within minutes, the still-bleeding victim, another witness and I were huddled in the back of a 7-11, filling out police reports using an ice cooler lid as a desk.
Just like that.
“What are you feeling?” my husband asked that night. We were sitting on the couch — the dog cuddled between us — and sort of watching “Finding Your Roots” on PBS like it was any other evening. And, just like that, I realized how very shaken I was, even though I was in no way injured.
I went to sleep with my Bible in my arms that night, in fact, wondering why a God who could imagine crocodile scales and shark teeth that refresh themselves in conveyor-belt manner would breathe His own life force into creatures so frail as humans.
It’s true. We have no horns or claws or even protective fur. We are defenseless against so much as a hard push against pavement. It’s no wonder we’ve turned to guns. Yet — politics completely aside — I don’t think that’s what God had in mind.
He, Himself, wants to be our armor against our sin-sickened world. He wants to be our shield and sword and strong castle tower surrounded by a moat filled with piranha and electric eels. The Bible says it again and again — not in those exact words, but the same idea. It says it in the Old Testament. It it says it in the New Testament.
And, at 10 a.m. or so last Tuesday, He said it on the street.