When you lose peace because someone invaded your home

Someone broke into our house while we were sleeping last Saturday night.

I don't get to enjoy the outdoors as much as I'd like to, so sometimes compensate by sleeping on my deck in the summertime. On Saturday night, something woke me up. I was groggy and remember seeing a distinct human shadow projected onto the wall of my house. The light source was my neighbor's backyard floodlight and the figure was close based on the size. It took a couple seconds, but I realized that someone was opening the gate at the top of the stairs and entering the deck. This guy was just a few feet away! Immediately, I sprang up and loudly cursed, watching him beat a hasty retreat down the stairs and back out my side gate.

I went inside, locked the door, and called 911. My wife was awake by now. "Oh yeah, putting on some pants might not be a bad idea"—the thought struck me as I spoke to the operator. I went outside to wait for the police. As the two officers arrived and went around to my backyard, the guy sprang from the other side of the house and raced across the street. All this happened very quickly, but I was very surprised that he hung around the backyard. I had assumed he would have hightailed it out of their knowing that I was on the phone with 911. More police officers arrived and began to comb through the neighborhood. It turned out that this fellow was also responsible for two earlier calls, one involving arson. One of the police officers showed me some video footage caught by one of those motion-sensor home cameras. Based on his clothing, I could say it was the same guy. He was a young, dopey-looking white guy with a black t-shirt with "MAYHEM" emblazoned in white letters.

After the police left, the worst part came: As I went back inside to check the house, I found that the the door leading into the house from the garage was open as well as the door from the backyard into the garage. This man had been inside the house at some point. My children were still sleeping upstairs ... what if ...?!

That night and for the several nights since, neither my wife or I have slept well. I am doing better now, having installed better locks and learning that the man has been arrested. The detective in charge of the case called me this afternoon, apparently looking to bolster the link to the arson. I learned the man was 26 years old and not from the area, but had been dropped off near the neighborhood that night. He was likely high on some type of substance.

Being an introspective person, I have been surprised at how this event could change my psyche so dramatically: When we come home from an outing, I need to check every room. I hear things at night and need to investigate. Some of this is probably healthy, leading me to install floodlights in the backyard and put sticks in my girls' bedroom windows. But some of this anxiety is definitely not healthy and enables me to empathize just a little bit with other people who have been violated in worse ways. With my peace gone, I realize how precious it is to have peace.

Peace is the English word we use to translate shalom (שָׁלוֹם), a Hebrew word that Jesus used to greet people in the Gospels: "Peace be unto you." Today, both Jews and Muslims still use this word as a salutation. I now value shalom more than before because I need it more than before. I need to know that my family is safe; that no one is intent on harming them.

Honestly, I am in a much better state than a couple days ago. But this was a wake-up call for me. So many people live without shalom, not just because of present physical danger but because a past trauma has robbed them of their peace. To these people, I want to say that I caught just a brief and shallow glimpse into what real psychological trauma might be like. I can empathize a little bit. But I also want to encourage you that peace is something you can reclaim. It is something that God promised to the Jewish people as they escaped slavery in Egypt, and that Jesus promised to those in need: "Shalom I leave you, My shalom I give to you; but not as the world gives! Do not let your heart be troubled or afraid." Read through the Gospels. They were recorded for you and me both.

A good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.

No compromise: A personal testimony

It’s been about 15 years now that I asked God what He wanted of my life and He answered, “No compromise.” I was still in high school and at our church’s summer retreat. Ps. Richard Holland was our guest speaker and introduced us to revival. I was on the floor, having been “slain in the Spirit,” and felt the presence of God over me. Because I felt He was near, I asked him what He wanted. I knew what I had wanted up to that point, but now I wanted whatever God wanted for my life. I lay quiet for a while, conscious that He was there and waiting for Him to speak, oblivious to the prayers, shouts, and songs around me.

“No compromise,” He answered, after what seemed like a long time. What He said—the exact words—was very clear to me, clearer than any “word” I’ve received directly from the Lord since then. Not only were the words clear, but the meaning was exactly clear as well. God unfolded what those two words meant for my Christian life: I was not to compromise His standard in any area of my life. He didn't want me to live up to what others thought was acceptable, but He wanted me to live up to His own perfect example. It was as Jesus said during His Sermon on the Mount, “Be perfect therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Of course, I’ve failed many times to live up to the perfect standard of God. I’ve compromised many, many times. But, even with all my failures, I am glad those were the words God gave to me 15 years ago because I know that God has called me with the highest calling. God doesn’t want me to compromise in love. He doesn’t want me to compromise in holiness. He doesn’t want me to compromise in discipline, effort, conviction, and commitment to His work. He doesn’t want me “on fire” only on Sundays or only during our annual church camp, but He wants me on fire for Him and His work all the time. “Never be lacking in zeal,” as Paul wrote. Of course I fail to live up to His perfect standard; but He never does, and so as long as I refuse to give up, He will continue to finish the work He started in me.

Moreover, these words “no compromise” mean that God Himself is my standard and not other people. I am not called to follow in the footsteps of any man, except that those lead me further in the way of Christ. Paul wrote to his disciple Timothy for him to not let anyone look down on him because of his relative youth, but to “set an example for all the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith, and in purity.” In other words, Paul told Timothy not to set his standards according to those who he naturally should have looked to (the elders in Ephesus), but to set his standards according to the calling of God in his life.

As I’ve matured spiritually (though I admit I still have so, so much to learn), I’ve come to understand that God doesn’t measure us relative to other people, but according to what He has called us to individually. If we compromise His calling in our life and excuse ourselves by comparing ourselves favorably to others, we will be surprised on that Last Day, because God will hold each one accountable for what He’s spoken to them individually and what He’s given them individually. To those who much had been given, much we will be demanded. So, don’t compromise.

Seeing is believing

I've traveled to Thailand quite frequently over the last decade in order to get to know my family there. Thailand is a very different world from what I'm used to here in the United States. In Bangkok, there's the smell of machine oil mixed with banana leaves. The dogs are mangy and numerous, since Buddhists don't believe in killing them and let them roam free. Street vendors sell all kinds of edible goodies--grilled calamari, satay, cut pineapple, and coconut ice-cream in hot dog buns, to name a few. There, exotic fruits are not durian, lychee, or mangosteen, but rather Red Delicious apples with the little "Washington State" sticker. But if you ask me, one of the most striking differences is that the supernatural (ghosts, spirits--that sort of thing) is not just something for scary movies over there. It's real, and I've seen it.

One day about five years ago, my aunts took me to a Chinese temple built by my grandfather's cousin, who emigrated from China about the same time as my grandparents and became quite a successful businessman. All the people who go to that temple are my relatives. My aunts are now Christian, but at that time they consulted the Chinese god about major decisions. For instance, they asked whether one of my cousins should come to the United States to study or not. The Chinese god answered no.

Anyway, the day I went to the temple, I got to see first-hand how this stuff works. There is an expansive hall on the second floor of the building where everyone sits on polished wood floors. At the head of the hall sits a big, gold-colored Chinese idol in a glass case. There are other idols around him, along with incense and other idol stuff. About 30 of us were there that Sunday, and sat along the sides with the people making the requests in the middle, facing the idol.

There are also two servant girls sitting at the foot of the idol, in a trance and sitting cross-legged with their eyes closed. They don't move, except for each grasping the ends of a Y-shaped stick with one inside hand. They use the stick to write Chinese characters in a sandbox about 2' x 3' in size. Each time they write a character and it is read aloud, they start on the next one. That's how the Chinese god "talks" to the people.

I was really shocked when I saw that, because I knew there was no way they could know what to write ahead of time. Also, writing Chinese is not a haphazard exercise because each stroke has to be made in order, in the correct direction, and the correct length.

Anyway, I just thought it interesting how in the Western world we don't really see that much of the supernatural, but in places like Thailand it is part of everyday life. If you have an undeniably supernatural experience, please share it in the comments.