shines.
and we're thankful for that.
and.
we know that these sunniest days still hold in them a darkness that is nearly palpable in this neighborhood.
we suspect our neighbors of using their house for either drugs or prostitution, or both.
cps needs to be called again on other neighbors, for what goes on behind closed doors.
an entire swat team stormed delores' house this evening, then left ten minutes later in the huge truck they arrived in
a family on third street live in filth and noise and chaos. children stay up into the wee morning hours.
another neighbor holds a sign at the lane street exit: homeless and hungry. he lives behind us. in a house. and apparently makes a decent living pretending he doesn't.
and still.
and still.
the darkness doesn't have a shot at being dark forever.
because God has moved into the neighborhood. He's living on 5th and 6th and freemont and davis and 2nd and 10th and lincoln and all the roads between.
and our job, it seems to me, is to follow along wherever He goes, talk to whoever He might feel like talking to, serve up a hot plate to someone He points out is hungry, to heal those who ask for it, to notice why the kingdom of God belongs to kids.
basically, our job is to shadow him as He goes about His father's business, but to do it in a way so as not to obscure His light.
because that's sin, which is darkness, and even on the sunniest of days, there's still more of that around here than there should be.
::jenn::
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