Those Are My People
Some thoughts do not arrive all at once. They come quietly. Like waves that keep returning to the shore. One after another. Never demanding attention, but somehow refusing to leave. This has been one of those thoughts. It started with a phrase I have heard countless times: “I’ve found my people.” You know what someone means when they say it. They have found the ones who understand them. The ones who know the story behind the story. The people around whom they can exhale and simply be themselves. Sometimes we say the opposite too. “Those aren’t my people.” And I understand that just as easily. T hat familiar phrase followed me into my Bible. W hile I was searching Scripture, I realized I had begun searching my own heart. Somewhere between turning pages and tracing one verse into another, my study quietly became a prayer. “Lord...do You know me as one of Your people?” Not, do I go to church? Not, do I know enough Scripture? Not even, do other people rec...