When I was in middle school, I got in trouble for smoking cigarettes. Well, one cigarette. There was only one.
And I don’t remember how my mom found out. Still, to this day, I’m not willing to bring it up.
At the time, I was under the impression that God had woken her up one evening — or had given her some sort of vision — and told her I was up to no good.
Is that true? Did God tell my mom I was smoking? I don’t know. It’s hard to think that God would be overly concerned about me lighting up one, single Marlboro Red when there’s hunger, poverty, racism, and injustice in our world. Kind of feels like His priorities would be out-of-whack.
But I will tell you this, it scared the shit out of me. At least for a season. Still does. I’m not overly mystical. But I’m sensitive to what’s happening. In my life — and in the lives of those around me. I’m always looking and listening to see if God really is paying much attention.
Holy Nickers 