Trouble With A Captial "T"

Yes, there's trouble!  Right here in Surrey City.  Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for... Police?

Yep, police, right here in Surrey City.  Not that police in Surrey are anything new.  Neither are police in my area of Surrey.  But it still gets the neighbours talking when the fuzz are out there chatting with the residents across the street.

After noticing some uniforms, I did what anyone would do.  I called my mother.  After informing her of the situation brewing across the street, she let me know that there had been a similar incident to the house next door to that just weeks ago with police and even fire trucks!

The question now is, what's with all the sudden influx of law enforcement in our neigbourhood? If I were to base my assumptions purely on past experience, I'd say it has something to do with drugs and the growing of. But this one I'm not so sure about.

These are relatively new neighbours and they keep to themselves. Kind of a strange sort of folk. There's a young woman who likes to sit in a white plastic chair just outside the door while still in her plaid pyjama pants. There she smokes cigarettes in the morning.  There is an older woman who wanders around the yard in her housecoat at 3:00 on Saturday afternoons. There is often a big, barking dog on the upstairs patio and cars of all makes and models coming and going at all times of day and night. I couldn't tell you what kind of car any of the residents own (or even how many residents reside there), but there was a PT cruiser in the driveway this afternoon.

The man I saw talking to the police today was a middle-aged white man with a bluetooth in his ear.  Though I couldn't hear anything while he was speaking with a female officer, he was gesturing wildly and pointing toward the open garage.  It seems that no matter who is living in that house, that giant garage is always seemingly full of junk.  When the previous residents vacated the abode, they were forced to rent a dumpster to dispose of the refuse.

Now that I think about it, I don't think this is the first time I've observed the police at the residence across the street.  Would these people be daring enough to try a growing operation?  Is there a foul odour of domestic violence permeating the house?  Perhaps there is a decaying body among the trash in the garage.

Even I, in my infinite wisdom cannot settle on a reason for the recent happenings at my neighbour's dwelling.  Perhaps understanding will come at a later date, or perhaps not at all.  For now, though, I will sit and wonder and create in my head glorious stories with infinite possibilities.

Seeking His Heart and Not His Hand

Maybe it's just me.  Then again, maybe it's not.  I've been noticing a trend in the North American Church of late.  It seems to me that many churches these days are looking for the signs and wonders - the manifestation of the things of God.  Don't get me wrong, we need to see God move.  The signs and wonders are what bring people into the kingdom, but I believe that we, as Christians, get off track when we start to look for the miraculous instead of the One who makes the miracles happen.

If Mark 16:17 says that signs and wonders will follow them that believe, why are we running and chasing after the miracles?  The picture that comes to mind here is a dog chasing his tail.  If signs and wonders follow us and we're chasing the signs and wonders... Do you get the picture?

What happened to seeking the Kingdom and God's righteousness?  Wasn't that our instruction?  "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you."  I heard a preacher/rapper once say that we need to be seeking God's heart rather than His hand.  Seeking the gifts and signs and wonders, that's all in God's hands.  Where's his heart?  His heart is in our prayer.  In our worship.  In time spent with His Word.  In our every day.  Revival isn't in the seeing, it's in the believing.  It's a heart change, not something we can grasp with our hands.  When we reach for God's heart, He will open His hand.

My brother's heart melts every time his baby son lights up and says, "Hi Dadda!"  God wants us to greet him like that.  "Daddy!  God, my Father, my Lover, my Friend!"  It's not what's in the hands that counts.  It's all about the heart.  We love God for who He is, not what He can do for us.

Personally, I'd rather have a grip on God's heart than His hand.