Where the Streets Have No Name

I grew up on a street called "Alice Avenue." (When I was really little I thought it was named after my Aunt Alice!) It was a very short north and south lane, entered by a T-intersection with an east and west street, and ending at a dead end at the Missouri Pacific Railroad tracks. I have good memories of Alice Avenue. I also remember that 447 Alice Avenue was more than a street address. Our street said something about us as a family. For one thing, it said we didn't live on certain streets in our town where the homes were larger, where the back yards butted up against a private golf club, and where dads had incomes a lot higher than mine did. On the other hand, Alice Avenue also meant we didn't live on other streets where tiny houses of the very poor crowded together in the shadow of factories, track side warehouses, and alleys. People found out a lot about a person in my hometown just by knowing on what street that person lived.

On what street do you live? From what street did you come? What does your street say in the eyes of the world around you? The band U2 once did a song called, "Where the Streets Have No Name." In part the lyrics are as follows:

I wanna run, I wanna hide,
I wanna tear down the walls,
That hold me inside.
I wanna reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name.

I'm not sure what Bono intended by those words, but it sounds like a human hunger to not be defined and confined by where we come from and where he are right now. For me, I think that, when God rules, the streets have no name. The streets of our lives don't define us. Only God does.

I'll see you around the next bend in the river.