For the past day or so I have watched the events unfold in Moore, OK. This story has gripped the headlines, the newscasts, and the casual conversations. I watched my bride late yesterday afternoon make those worried, concern sounds as she watched the pictures of the elementary in ruin. She was saddened and afraid for those little ones that she did not know, but knew of their precious value. We watch now in morbid fascination the death toll tick ever upward and wish we could tear ourselves away from this unfolding event. Wherewill the damage stop? How will the parents and grandparents, the uncles and aunts, the brothers and sisters, the neighbors, how will they adjust? The shape of their worlds and their hearts have changed forever. The rheostat has been dimmed and the future is dark and terrifying. This storm will wreak havoc for years. People have lost all possessions, jobs, and hope. My prediction is that there will be divorces in the years to come that this storm played as a catalyst to bring about. Depression will become a constant companion. It is almost certain that lives and futures, hopes and dreams have been crushed in this moment.
And as believers, how do we respond? The platitudes that we utter to each other seem futile and banal. We hold to a worldview that God is loving and kind, compassionate and sacrificial. Just this morning I sent an email to one of my reps telling him he was in my prayers and thoughts, Yet, even as I wrote it, I knew the pain was his alone to bear. I will go through my day fully functional and unscarred by my rep's loss and the loss north of the Red River. What do we say?
You see, there are at least three different sets of folks in Oklahoma. Each suffered the same event, but with different results. Yet, we have a single God and a singular worldview. What do we say?
The first group is the one we want to deal with because they are the easiest to help. I am speaking of the folks who lost only stuff. We can go in and help them rebuild. We can dig around in our closets and garages and find more than enough surplus stuff to outfit them and dozens of others. They will respond with a brave smile and heart of gratitude, both to us and God. They were spared, prayers were answered. Life will be a chore, but it will go on and the skies will turn blue again. God is indeed a kind and benevolent God.
And the second group is almost as gratifying to interact with. They lost stuff, but suffered some sort of permanent damage. This damage could be physical, or emotional, or financial. Their realty has changed and their world is now one of becoming used to the new normal. It will never be restored, but the damage was not eternal. They might walk with a limp, or not walk at all. They may need counseling for the remainder of their days. Or they may simply have to live life on a smaller scale than they had anticipated. But God spared them their lives and while they are grateful for that, they wonder why He chose to let this happen to them. What could they have possibly done to incur His wrath in this manner? God is good, but they now wonder about his benevolence.
Then there is the group that we can't find the words for. They are standing hunched across the street from the elementary school where they took their little boy or girl, hoping against hope that they first responders will proudly march out of the rubble with their little one clutched close, alive and well. But they are crouched down in their fear, well deserved when they look at the rubble that was once the school, fearing beyond all fears that the "finding" will bring certain devastation to their lives. Or they have already received the news that the bright little boy with the winning smile and the innocent face is gone forever, snatched from them before they could say good-bye or hug one last time or kiss good night. Perhaps it is a husband looking for his teacher-wife and finding that she did what he always knew she would do, sheltered the little ones with her own life. He wanted so badly to tell her, "Don't be a hero" knowing full well she would ignore his request and save all she could. What a desolate and lonely feeling that must be. There are no words of comfort, there is no advice, there is only silence of the soul. What do we tell these people? Where was God when this happened? I suspect there is less a feeling about the goodness of God and more about the presence of God.
It depends on where you stand. The old book gives us a good model on how to deal with the tragedies of life. Jesus wept, then he acted. We should use this model. It has been a great comfort in my life when the storms were fierce that believers simply put their arms around me and wept with me. No words, no advice, no encouragement, just tears mingling with mine. They do not feel the same pain, but they feel some of my pain enough to share in it.
On another level, as to the absence of God, I see a man on a cross asking the same question. When I need you the most, where are you? But it is the essence of faith that the severest test is when the source of the faith is completely unseen. Our worldview needs to be revised. It is not a world of have and have-nots, ins or outs, good or bad. It is a world that says it will happen to you. God never promised us security and safety in this realm, he promised us simply a way to deal with it. But the "dealing" with it is painful. But not without hope.
So we weep, then we help. We embrace those we can. We keep our mouths shut and our hearts open.
Godspeed to those in Moore, OK. I pray that the journey is not too steep. I will cry a special prayer for those who lost ones who will never be replaced.
Don
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