I am heartsick.
Beyond the politics, beyond the spin….beyond the pundits and the blaming, and the mistakes that led to the deaths of 17 people….
There is the death of a group of 17 people.
Reality: 30-34 parents are devastated. Countless kids, friends, relatives, and co-workers are devastated.
Yet here we are in mid-America, singing about the Reckless Love of God.
There is nothing harder than singing about the love of God after you’ve buried your child.
We jump into worship like it’s second nature, without pause, because it didn’t happen to us, but what about those 17 families? What about those friends and colleagues?
I look at the kids at our church, and I wonder about them…Jeremiah, Nia, Aiden, Lila, Ruby…I think about Jack, and Scout, and Temple, about the families I know and love. I think about my son…my Jericho…and his pending first day of school.
We trust Him with them.
He loves us, yes. But when you’ve buried your child, you bury your hope, and even though it is only for a season, it feels like an eternity. His love is excruciatingly hard to see in that place.
I am past that season in the valley, but I remember how difficult in that place it was to say, “You are Good.” It crushed me.
Eventually, I got there.
But there are 17 families taking their first steps into that valley, and my heart aches with an understanding of the journey they have unwillingly embarked upon….
Yet here I am, on a stage, singing about the Reckless Love of God in Mid-America….like everything is okay.
It’s not okay.
When Hannah died, I felt like the world should stop & take notice; of course, it didn’t. The earth spins, and our routines (those of us that are blissfully unaffected) don’t stop. Some pastors aren’t even mentioning Florida today, which feels so wrong, to me…We just keep going, maybe because we’ve found out how difficult it is to get going again after we’ve faced the heartache.
We have to stop. We have to acknowledge, we have to intercede and lift these families up on a corporate level, as a body of believers. We have to accept the very power of prayer we say we have, and put it to use. We have a nation that is SICK, and the time has come for us to stop ignoring it on Sunday morning, and to do something about it on a spiritual level.
17 families, people. Look at your kids. Imagine the journey back to saying, “God is good,” after they’re gone.
Now worship like you’re not affected.
I can’t “act” like I’m okay. I can’t pretend to be in a “safe” place in regards to worship when old questions raise their hands, when that pestering, “Why?” nags the back of my skull. I remember finally getting to a place where I understood that God is not obligated to explain Himself to me, but I am obligated to trust Him. I still do, and I always will, but I remember the ache of that question, and the stupid things people said to me, to assuage their own version of that question. I remember, and I have such a deep compassion for these 17 families that I cannot help but to pray for an avalanche of grace…
Would you please pray with me, for these lives? For these hearts and minds? Pray for connections and networking, for church bodies and hearts to reach out of the unexpected places to bring comfort and love to these people. Pray for an influx of the Holy Spirit to flood that school with hope and with a passion for an abundant life…Pray that for the next year, for this critical year after such a loss, that they would encounter, radically encounter, renewed and restored faith and purpose….
There is a way out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death….coming up out of the wilderness, leaning on our Beloved.