My sticky legs peeled away from the burgundy, vinyl seat of our station wagon. Squeezing and squirming between my three brothers on the floor was tricky. Dad’s voice was strangely urgent as we took an unexpected detour to Grandma’s.
“Stay down!” my dad barked as we bumped along the steamy , smoky, noisy streets of Detroit, Michigan. Roofs were on fire and people were running all over the place. Sirens screamed and horns blew as we navigated our way through. After what seemed like a million years, we were finally able to crawl back to our spots and breathe safely again.
I didn’t know in that summer of ‘68 that this was only one of many times when my parents would shield us from the danger that exploded near my two safest places in the world: our home in Cleveland and Grandma’s near Detroit. Seven year olds didn’t understand a whole lot about any of it.
Forty years later, I’m still amazed at the lessons that my parents taught us about community, respect, justice, truth, peace and love. They showed us that Jesus’ gospel message isn’t easy. But it is worth every moment.
”Love each other as I have loved you.” (John 15:12 NIV)
God knows that many times that I have failed to live up to his gospel promise. I’ve learned the bitter truth that misunderstanding and miscommunication can expand quickly. God can guide me straight through the conflicts that I face. Every single time.
Dear Lord, please guide me to love others the way that you do.