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Why God Created Law Enforcement


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  • Why God Created Law Enforcement

    So firefighters could have heroes too.

    Stay safe.

  • #2
    Reminded me of the old Paul Harvey story line of the same title.Its here somewhere.Goes to search

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    • #3
      Thanks for the link. I enjoyed the video.


      • #4
        "I'M A POLICEMAN"

        I'm a policeman, Oh why? you may ask.
        It's not that the pay is well worth the task.
        It's something deep down, it's something inside.
        It's not just a job where you're there for the ride.
        The dangers we face, we know they're for real.
        But it's not just a job, it's something you feel.

        We're out on the beat, it's late at night.
        This is the time when families fight.
        Shouting and cursing, then comes a hit.
        A loud screaming child, a mad raging fit.
        We come on the scene there's not a set play.
        We have to assess with our fears pushed away.

        There's darting eyes and another door.
        Can we see all the people or are there more?
        A bang and a crash come from the back.
        Is someone else there to take a crack?
        We take control but it's never easy.
        The mess and the people can make you feel queasy.
        We return to the beat and hope it's all right.
        But we know we'll be back for the very next fight.

        A stop light runner and a simple chase.
        But we never know what we may face.
        Another bad drunk? A kid on a high?
        Or something much worse to give us a try?
        We can't take it easy, we can't take a chance.
        Always a new tune, always a new dance.

        There's racial tensions and rights to uphold.
        We have to show patience but yet appear bold.
        It's easier to say that "all must be fair."
        When you're not on the street, when you're not the one there.
        Those feelings of pressure we must put aside.
        With our actions up front and keeping our pride.

        It's harder on family than it is on me.
        Their imagined worst fear are all that they see.
        I'm on the job and handling it well.
        But they're safe at home imagining hell.
        When the telephone rings and it's late at night.
        They wake in a sweat with a terrible fright.
        But their awful thoughts I must leave at the station.
        'Cause they might dull my senses and force hesitation.

        So why do I do it? Where is the joy?
        There's people who smile, a found little boy.
        There's laughter and friendship with people who care.
        There's knowing a difference just 'cause we're there.
        There's sunshine and sadness and having the nerve.
        To get up each morning and say that " I serve."

        John T. Sutton, March 1988, Dallas, Texas.


        When God Made Police Officers . . .

        When the Lord was creating Police Officers, He was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said,
        "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

        And the Lord said, "Have you read the requirements on this
        order? A Police Officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle their uniform."

        "They have to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify in court the next day."

        "They have to be in top physical condition at all times,
        running on black coffee and half-eaten meals, and they have to have six pairs of hands."

        The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands . . . no way!!"

        "It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."

        "That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

        The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before they ask, 'May I see what's in there, sir?'"
        (when they already know and wish they'd taken that accounting job) "Another pair here in the side of their head for their partner's safety, and another pair of eyes here in front so they can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, 'You'll be alright, ma'am,' when they know it isn't so."

        "Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."

        "I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."

        The angel circled the model of the Police Officer very slowly. "Can it think?" she asked.

        "You bet," said the Lord, "it can tell you the elements of a hundred crimes, recite Miranda warnings in its sleep, detain, investigate, search, and arrest a gang member on the street in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop . . . and still it keeps its sense of humor. This officer also has phenomenal personal control. They can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, comfort a muder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."

        Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Police Officer. "There's a leak," she pronounced, "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."

        "That's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."

        "What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

        "It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."

        "You're a genius," said the angel.

        The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," He said.
        Last edited by jdthor; 10-17-2014, 07:47 PM.


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