The early morning air felt cool and crisp as I set out on my usual walk. The sunflowers still had their heads bowed and a spider web at the base of a fire hydrant glistened in the first rays of the day as I headed toward the main road. I noticed a man in a hoodie walking towards me on the opposite side of the street. I ran my fingers over my front jeans pocket. I realized with a shudder that I had left my cell phone on the kitchen table.
I avoided his eyes as he crossed over to my side of the street. I glanced over my shoulder and picked up the pace. I glanced again. He was gaining on me. My heart began to pound and panic made my ears ring. I turned the corner and headed up a residential street. I spotted a house with lights on. I looked over my shoulder. The man in a hoodie turned on the same street.
I ran up the driveway. I turned and looked. He stopped at the end of the driveway by the paper box. He stared at me as he slowly walked up the driveway. Step by step. I froze. I stood at the front door – the doorbell just inches from my hand, but I could not ring the bell. I could not bang on the door. I could not scream for help.
He was at the top of the driveway. Our eyes locked. He did not waver and my legs were too stiff to run. I was in his cross-hairs. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and black. I’m dead. Terror nearly strangled me. He never took his eyes off me. “Can I help you?” he asked as he squeezed the black object in his hand. Just then, the garage door opened.
Seriously? I’m standing on the steps of the one who I thought was going to kill me? This is his house? “No, I’m just leaving,” I mumbled.
He folded the newspaper, tucked it under his arm and walked into his garage, but not before squinting his eyes of suspicion at me. I couldn’t get home fast enough.
I wonder how many people turn to the very thing that is their enemy – the alcoholic trying to drown his sorrows with more alcohol; the drug addict taking more drugs to calm his nerves; the unhappily married spouse running to the arms of another; or the financially ruined businessman going to the casino to hit the jackpot and save him from total bankruptcy. It seems many people run to the one person or thing that is the enemy, just as I ran to the very house of a man in a hoodie who could have been my attacker.
I was reminded that when faced with the enemy: “The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know the name of the Lord, put their trust in Him, for He will not forsake those who seek Him.” Psalm 9:9-10.