Tragedy. So surreal we can’t help but wonder if it’s really happening, until the painful realization sets in again and we are bereft with grief at what we have lost: life. limbs. home. quality of life. security. hope. All gone.
If we believe in a God, we would question why He would let this happen. Why the senseless pain? Why? How could He be so heartless?
I don’t know why bad things happen. Especially to good people. To children. And to a degree I understand the “this can’t really be happening” feeling. The mind reels with disbelief; this is what happens to other people. This is what you read about on the news. It can’t be real. It can’t be happening. The sorrow. The anger. The hopelessness.
This is what I do know: in these times of tragedy, of needless suffering and devastation like in the Boston bombings yesterday, there is no easy answer. The God that I have studied Scripture about, and Whose closeness and care I have experienced in my darkest moments, does not take pleasure in our pain. He allows some of it to happen because He has allowed us all to make choices, but He does not rejoice when we are hurt.
This God I have come to love promises to bring beauty out of our ashes. To bring new life to what has died. He is closer than our next breath. Comforting us in our sorrow. Healing our hearts and binding up our wounds. He cleans up the mess if we let Him.
My heart goes out to all those who are facing today in ways they wouldn’t have imagined when they woke up yesterday morning. I cry out for the arms of Comfort to surround them. For healing, for strength, for glimpses of hope. For the ability to get through today, and tomorrow, and the next day, until they can finally stand up again. And in the midst of it all, somehow know that the Great I Am cares for them. Even in this.