An
Inkling
Sarah
and I moved to Wichita Falls, Texas, in 1987, eight years after a giant tornado
had flattened a quarter of the city, killing 79 people. The house where my parents live now was built
on the slab of one that blew away, and was intentionally rebuilt with a
concrete closet that doubles as a storm shelter.
Do
any of you have a concrete closet? We in
Richmond don’t think of such things. But
those who have experienced the fierce storms of the high plains certainly
do.
In
fact, I noticed how those who lived through the storm couldn’t help but to
think of it. It marked their lives. And so, for example, when they were trying to
remember when something had happened they would ponder, “let’s see, was that
before or after the storm?” The mark
became a measure for many things in their lives.
What
do we do with such markers, the literal and figurative life-flattening
storms? First we weep. We weep with those who weep. God will one day redeem our broken world, but
in the meantime its ragged edges gash many lives. And so we weep.
Second,
we cling to God’s word. One of the odd effects
of tornadoes is that people can’t find anything because their usual landmarks
are gone – the big tree on the corner, the street signs, the surrounding homes,
etc. In the midst of rubble, we’re
disoriented, and we all the more need the clear landmarks of God’s word to find
our way. Romans 8:18-28 is a sure landmark
in such times.
Third,
we join people in rebuilding their lives.
Whether the storm came as a cancer or a whirlwind, we join them in
rebuilding. Destruction does not have
the final word. That belongs to the One
who builds and rebuilds and rebuilds and…
When we join in rebuilding we join with him in what he does.
And
fourth, at some point, usually years later, we can look back and see how the
One who weeps and rebuilds with us has also painted the blotch of that life
marker into the patterns of his larger and lovely picture. It’s just as Romans 8:28 tells us: even destruction is gathered up into God’s
good work in our lives.
And
that, even more than the worst storm, is the Life Marker by which we can
measure many things.
Praying
for OKC,
Keith
