Thugs. Security guards. License to carry.

Husband told me today he wished he had these kinds of stories.

Sometimes I’m convinced my life has controlled amounts of  insanity because God’s giving me material.

I was going to write about the backyard bunny butcher today, but that story has been usurped even this mornings events. And it’s good to get a handle on priorities, especially when it comes writing.

So the fact that it might take professional therapy and an act of God to get me back to my local Starbucks takes today’s cake.

How do I start.

I was running late (which is typical, recently). I wanted coffee. I pulled up to the Starbucks that I go to….a lot. And noticed a gentleman. Uh, a dude. But if I’m honest, “dude” is giving this particular individual too much credit. Thug would suit him best. And even so, I think I’m being kind. Standing near his car and observing me intently. The kind of observing that makes my skin crawl.

As I walked through the parking lot he walked up next to me, tried to start a conversation with me, but I wasn’t up for chit chat. He continued walking alongside me as I approached the Starbucks, where I looked up and saw a lady with a stone cold stare on her face and terror playing behind her eyes as she watched me and the thug. So I turned to look at him again, only to find he was packing heat.

He’d lifted his shirt up, and had his hand resting on a gun tucked into his pants.

At some point in the midst of me staring, he took off the other direction and disappeared into the other half of the shopping center.

I did what any horrified woman does, I called Husband. Bordering on hysterical. He was busy – too busy to answer his phone.

Long story short, by the time I got a hold of him, he asked why I hadn’t called the cops.

Leave it to Husband to be rational.

Better yet, Husband asked, why didn’t I call my cousin the cop, he wanted to know.

Blah! I don’t know! Because reason and logic do not go hand in hand with panic.

So I called my cousin the cop, who told me to call 911.

The operator lady told me that multiple people had already called in the incident (thank you to everyone else who did allow logic to reign and that kept their wits about them) and that cops were responding.

I spoke with my Cousin the Cop later who said, “I think he should be charged with being dumb in public.”

Can I get an amen?

It turns out, a business owner in the shopping center vouched for this particular gun-weilding thug as their “security”.

Gotta love it when your “security guard” is called in multiple times as a security threat.

Gotta love it when a “security guard” leaves you petrified.

I’m not really one to get petrified. As a general rule, I’m not afraid of guns when they’re in the right hands. I’m not particularly afraid of thugs. I like to think I can hold my own. Case in point:

As Lorelei Gilmore says, “I fancy myself wonder woman.”

Who do I fancy God to be in the midst of security crises?

My Strong Tower.

My Savior.

My Refuge.

My Strength.

I think I’m wrestling with the fact that this particular security guard crisis, bears a resemblance to how I sometimes feel about Christ.

If I am honest. God sometimes makes me panicky. What He allows. What He permits. What He watches without intervening. The fact that the One in whom my security rests also strikes the fear of God in me. Literally.

That makes me uneasy.

What is it that they say about the Lion in Narnia? “He’s not safe, but he’s good.” C.S. Lewis’ point being that God is not safe, but He’s good.

I’m not trying to take this analogy to the point where you think I’m comparing God to a thug of a security officer who creates wide-spread panic  – thats not where I am going with this. But I’m lying to myself if I don’t see a parallel of not always feeling safe in the presence of security.

Like the guys on the boat who were sure they were about to drown. (Mark 4).

Or when Jesus takes a whip to cleanse the temple (Mark 11).

Or the earthquake sent to set the captives free (Acts 16).

Sometimes proximity to Security doesn’t necessarily aid in feeling secure.

I think those are the instances where healthy fear rears its head to teach us to revere and respect the One who alone makes us dwell us in safety. (Psalm 4:8)

And that just because we don’t feel secure, doesn’t mean we aren’t.

“The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and He delivers them.” Psalm 34:7 



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