I walk with our boys to school this morning, as I do most mornings.  Donning my prescribed Michigan attire, I wore my gym shorts and sandals (because it’s warm) and hoddie (because it’s cold).  The sun was on its way to overwhelming the overnight chill.

We were en route to the elementary.  The daily conversation as we walked was the unlikability of Superman, from whose branded mug I was drinking coffee.  “Dad, Superman is the worst of the superheroes.  I mean, who puts their Fortress of Solitude in Antarctica, which is where the Penguin lives?”  Also, “Bad guys don’t even engage in battles with Superman because they know they’ll lose, since he’s so overpowered.”  Etc.  Up until this morning I really liked S(o)up.  Now I second guess.  Perhaps Shazam is the unrecognized mastermind second fiddle?

By the time we arrived, the conversation morphed into how strange the word Iron is (eye-ron? ayeRAHN?  Eiren?)  These are the conversations I love.  Zac leaned into a shrubbery and pretended to be caught in its branches.  Mac gave a piece of chocolate to a 2nd grader.

Then we heard a {POP} from the front of the school.  Back in my day, we’d say the sound was a ’78 Chevy backfiring, but, as you know, we don’t hear that sound very much these days.  The parents around me listened close and thought about many things at once.  The leading thought in my mind was “no worries,” even though we heard something that might be a gun firing at an Elementary School, even though it wasn’t… was it?  Did a kid bring a firecracker?  “No worries…”

Then a kid came around and said “the bus driver ran over a basketball!” which explained everything, except for the question of why was a basketball under the tire of a bus?  {POP} went gym class.

I sure do miss the days where we assumed a backfiring car and not a terrorist attack.  I long for the feeling of security, even if we as kids didn’t realize the inherent danger in simply existing.

This tension and the framework for the sound of a {POP} reveals just how much I long for the broken world to be fixed.  As a follower of Jesus, I look forward to the coming Kingdom, where all will be well.  And it will.  And it is.  The Kingdom is now.  I’m supposed to carry peace into the world.  So I will, by choice, by virtue of the victory of Christ, and simply because I believe what He said will happen.  Is there a greater hope?

We started our conversation with a roundabout on Superman and the strengths and weaknesses of superheroes and villans.  Then, I thought for a split second that we needed a superhero. It was just a basketball versus a Bluebird bus.  No worries.

As cheesy as it sounds, Jesus is the only superhero.  And He’s all we need.