Is God just looking for enough evidence to shame me into fearful allegiance?

“Hey Brian, you better come home. The police are here.” I dropped the phone and ran to my car. 

Someone had been in our house—someone who didn’t belong. He’d forced open the 1970s-era louvre windows and opened the door into the kitchen from the carport. The contents of my desk drawers covered the floor of my bedroom, and my checkbook was missing. The com…