The Inside Man

I was invited in last night.

Not in from the cold or into a popular night spot. A police captain invited me inside the yellow tape stretched across the intersection at Sherbourne and Vance where a man barricaded himself inside a house.

Next I was invited by a police sergeant to sit in the mini-van where the father of the barricaded man was sitting. It was hot. It was 12:30 in the morning. It was strange. It was confusing.

I invited myself to try to help him understand what was happening. I told him I knew the officers involved. They did not want to hurt his son, they wanted to help him. (I didn’t mention that they wanted to help him into a matching set of shiny bracelets.)

It was exciting to be on the inside when others were kept out. Kept out of the yellow tape. Out of the privacy (and air conditioning) of the mini-van. I was on the inside figuratively because I know something about police officers and police procedures.

As a Christian, I even had an inside connection with God. *

I was in the right place at the right time. I had all the right answers to his concerns.

With all my inside connections, he still kept me out. My explanations were rebutted; my answers were rejected; my attempts to pacify him only stirred his impatience.

So I did what my training and experience told me to do. I listened. I offered a few words acknowledging his difficulty and offering my sympathy. And I listened.

I suppose that is usually why we are invited in. Into someone’s circle of friends or someone’s home or someone’s heart. To listen, to acknowledge the pain, to sympathize. When you and I are all invited in it is usually because we care.

* 1 John 5:15 And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him.