“I could ask my uncles to kill him.”
These were the words, O God, spoken by an inner-city third grader to my friend, the boy’s tutor.
Someone had smashed the car window of the boy’s mother. 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, “I could ask my uncles to kill him.”
O God, the city is full of prowling dogs. They are shaping this boy. They are ruining this boy.
Punish them. Consume them.
And be this boy’s strength. Give him a different story to live out. Be the God on whom he can rely.