This morning as I got ready for a short family walk I grabbed a t-shirt off the top of my t-shirt stack in the closet. I put it on without looking at it. On the way out the door two Mormon missionary kids – identifiable from 100 yards easy with their white shirts, black pants, black backpacks, and pink, scrubbed faces – approached.
Their eyes grew large as they looked at me – and that wasn’t, presumably, because I am so tall and was very scruffy – “Hey, did you go to the Salt Lake City games?”

Huh?
They pointed to my t-shirt.
Ah! No, it was a gift.
They looked crestfallen.
We didn’t chat for long – Kim, kids, dog paced, ready to go – but I asked them how things were going. That was after I assured them I wasn’t going to become a Mormon.
They were in Northern Virginia for two years. It was going pretty well. Some people nice, others not so nice. I assume that was a polite way of saying they hadn’t experienced too much hospitality.
Then, this, “There are a lot of rich areas in Northern Virginia. Those places aren’t so nice.”
There it was. The reality Jesus highlighted so many times. How poorly faith and money coexist.
Money does what few other things can do – it gives the warm illusion of security… and superiority. I still find it hard to grasp – to really grasp – that security comes in God alone no matter the circumstances. I pray I find my way there…again.