Yesterday, we went to church in Miami.

We attended a beautiful service: an inspiring word in a spirit-filled hour and a half of worship in a welcoming, multi-ethnic, intergenerational community. We were definitely older than the bulk of the people, but no-one made us feel out of place. It was well worth the Uber.

After service, we needed to go to a convenience store to get drinks for the room.

We found a Walgreen’s half a mile away. Which is an easily walkable distance

But I had noticed on the ride in that we were passing a lot of graffiti and homes with bars on the windows and doors. There were areas that were boarded up.

Which made me wonder if maybe the route wasn’t the best to take.

But Lori was like “you worry too much,” which is often true. I can overthink with the best of them.

So we started walking.

We did seem to be the only people leaving service on foot.

And as we walked, we encountered only a few pedestrians, but they fell into two distinct groups.

1. Homeless guys working traffic intersections.
2. People who looked at us somewhat quizzically. Like why are you here?

But we got to Walgreen’s and bought our stuff.

Lori got into a conversation with the cashier, who recommended a vegan lunch spot she liked, and told us she wanted to visit New York.

And while Lori was checking out, I struck up a conversation with the security officer, because I had never seen drugstore security quite so heavily armed.

He was a gigantic black man who appeared to be no stranger to combat. He had multiple weapons. He had a bulletproof vest and a helmet. He had clips, and clips, and more clips.

He looked like he was deploying to Iraq.

And I said “I’ve never seen security with so much gear.”

And he smiled and said “you always need to be ready.”

And then he got serious and said he had been in situations where he had run out of ammo, and options, and being overprepared was much better.

And we talked for a bit. He had been assigned to this spot, on the edge of Miami Dade, for 6 months.

And he said it used to be really bad, but it had gotten better.

And I asked him how long ago it was bad, and he said “6 months.”

And I was like what changed?

And he said: “we’re here.”

And I said "can you describe 'bad?'”

And he proceeded to point down the street where a shootout had occurred during the week in broad daylight. He pointed across the street to a spot where a kidnapping attempt had occurred yesterday.

He listed several other incidents that seemed unambiguously bad and surprisingly close.

And I shared with him where we had gone to church and our decision to walk, and asked him if going on foot had been a poor choice.

And he said it’s Sunday morning. You were probably fine.

Probably.

But I couldn’t help but think back to the people we kept walking by on the way to the store.

Who all looked far tougher than me.

Who all greeted us on the street.

And all had a look on their faces like “really?”

And it made me think about grace.

I’ve made a number of bad decisions in my life

I’ve made choices that looked brave that were based in naïveté.

I have trespassed unknowingly, and violated any number of community norms.

And I’ve often been the recipient of grace.

Sometimes things worked out fine.

Sometimes they cost me, but they could have cost me far more.

And while I personally look at divine subplots, I’m struck today by the power of public servants, and the power of community.

This man wasn’t from the neighborhood. He lived in Broward County, but he served there.

He offered his experience, his preparation, and his hard-earned skills for the purpose of making a community safer.

And while I know policing can impact different people differently, and systems and structures need ongoing reform, this seems to me a noble goal: presenting yourself as a living sacrifice, and offering your gifts, talents, and abilities for the purpose of making a community safer.

And I would say the same regardless of the lane of service we choose.

As teachers, can we make the world safer for children?

As doctors, can we make the world safer for patients?

As corporate employees, and support staff, and customer service, and bodega workers, and shoe clerks, can we make the world safer by choosing the path of justice, and kindness, and humility?

As husbands, and wives, can we make marriage safer for each other?

As parents, can we make life safer for our kids?

As community members, can we make community safer by just showing up?

Can we advocate for people with our words and our actions?

Can we support their well-being with our hands and our feet, with the things we create, and the stances we take?

Sometimes we can protect others so well they don’t even know we’re there. We can make their path so safe they don’t even think to be afraid.

I maybe walked through a rough spot yesterday.

And in a variety of ways, a community kept me safe.

May we all look for opportunities to do the same.