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O God, an inner-city third-grader said today, “I could ask my uncles to kill him.” 

My friend was tutoring him.  The boy was sad.  Someone had smashed his mother’s car’s window.  My friend said, “Let it go.  Let the adults worry.”  The third grader wouldn’t.  My friend said, “Let it go.  There’s nothing you can do.” 

The third grader said, “Yes there is.  I could ask my uncles to kill him.”

O God, the city is full of prowling and howling dogs.  They are shaping this boy.  They are ruining this boy. 

Punish them.  Consume them in your wrath.

And be this boy’s strength.  Be his fortress.  Be the God on whom he can rely.

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God Most High, today my life is a tragic tale.  It’s like I’m starring in a National Geographic documentary.  I’m the young and frail animal pursued by seasoned and chiseled lions.  It won’t be long before these hurtful humans in my life devour me.

But God Most High, you are the one in charge.  They may be actors but you are the director.  They may have roles but you are the producer.  I’m praying that the morning will bring no doubt as to who is really calling the shots in this movie of my life.

I know how this film ends–with your sky-high love and faithfulness.  As a result, I’m singing.  Even today, my soundtrack is praise.

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