Whisper Words: thoughts in the aftermath of tragedy


Lately, it’s been hard to find soul quiet in which to sink down, rest safe. But, even in this unrest, prayer has come more naturally—more needfully—to these dry lips lacking Water.


Why need it be the hard that pulls us to God?


The hurting church—licking its wounds. The disconsolate life—sucked dry by entertainment. The gun-ravaged people—struck down by Hell.


I sat on the edge of my bed and wept as the gunshots blared. My husband and I felt sick, as tragedy fueled political divisions. People being hauled into graves, wounded being caravanned into hospitals, families being ripped apart forever.


We can be assured—know it deep down—that there is “a time for mourning.”


There are times, maybe seasons, when we sit here—with tears and torment—feeling naked and alone. Why, God? Why the pain? Why the demons? Why the death?


And we know the answers. But knowing is not [is never] enough. We have to hope. Hope that God’s promises really have been made “Yes” in Christ. Hope that this patient God really is reaping a harvest of new believers in this time before eternal. Hope that we are waiting for a real, deep, overwhelming redemption outweighing the transient pain.


Hope in God.


And in the meantime, grieve with the grieving; weep with the weeping; reach out hands made strong by God and, by gosh, help the helpless.


This Creator God that “Let light shine out of darkness” makes light shine into dark hearts even now (2 Cor. 4:5-6). This light lets the hard pressed hold strong. It lets the perplexed disdain despair. And the persecuted? The Light does not leave them abandoned. Maybe struck down, but not destroyed.


Maybe someone will see this great hope and hope alongside us.


Some will say that prayer is empty and that there is no God to have ears to hear. Press on in prayer, friends. And press on in love labor so that people know our words have feet and walk this weary road.


Because in the end, this blood-bought road leads to salvation.

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