Our little community has been undone and stripped of so many things held dear. The circumstances of demolition have varied, but the common landscape of rubble is sadly all I see.
On Sunday, lives were lost to a tornado that is now considered an F4. Only 28 tornadoes in Arkansas have ever been an F4. Ten miles to the east and ten miles to the south is utter destruction. I lie in my bed feeling guilty that I even have a bed. It could have so easily taken out my house or my boys. It took out people's homes that we know by name. People that were in our wedding. People in Sam's class. People in my in-laws' Sunday School class. It is eerie when Samaritan's Purse is in your backyard, helping out the friends you know by name.
On Monday, a young girl named Reagan passed away. Her heart failed her. She had just celebrated her 15th birthday.
On Tuesday, I sat in the hospital with a precious friend as she waited to go back to see the doctor who would cut out the dream she had hoped to hold in a few more months.
Everywhere I look, I see demolition and fragmented hearts.
What do we do when all we have left is rubble?
First, we need to be real before our Savior. He would rather us beat on His chest in anger than offer false platitudes that don't get to the real issues of hurt. He is God and He can handle it. Jesus knows what it is like to be us and He can meet us exactly in that place of disappointment and grief. The Psalms are full of lamenting and confusion. God wants us to come before Him boldly in these times.
We stay in this place as long as necessary, and then we pray that God would move us to a second phase: praying for the grace to praise Him despite the deep ache. If faith is a gift, then we fall on our knees and beg for fresh faith, knowing trust in the Almighty will be the only thing that brings light into our days. God knows that when we praise Him in the suffering, He truly has our allegiance and worship.
What do we do if those around us are sorting through the rubble but we haven't been affected firsthand?
We become grief-walkers. We choose to be the hands and feet of Jesus. We don't offer sing-song bible verses offered flippantly. We don't say with a smile on our face, "Jesus is close to the brokenhearted" while skipping on by. Instead, we get close to the brokenhearted. We choose to enter into the story instead of running away from it. We rebuke the enemy's lie that says we have nothing to offer or say. We accept the truth that says mere presence means more than anything.
We offer money and services and meals and clothes that just might fit. We give our best, not just the remains. We simply do what we would love for others to do for us if we were in that situation. Not more. Not less.
We get on our knees and pray. Weep. We acknowledge His great love for all of us. We remember that our King is one who weeps with us. We beg for mercy because the days are hard and God knows it is hard to be us. We choose to believe that prayer changes things...including our hard hearts that are so prone to unbelief. We pray for His Kingdom to come and we celebrate the fact that one day, all things will be set right.
We relinquish our right to know why God allows certain things to happen. We surrender our lust for knowledge because we know that lust is partly why Eve took that bite...she wanted to be like God. She so desperately wanted to know.... Instead, we quote the Psalm that says, "My heart is not proud, O LORD, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me." We choose to quiet our souls when the Enemy says we have a right to know. We acknowledge that God is sovereign and good and is up to something beautiful even if we can't see it. Even when the rubble shouts otherwise.
We read stories where His children are remaining faithful despite the unthinkable. With tears streaming down our faces, we praise Him for the gift of faith.
Lastly, we don't forget. In three months, when the shock wears off, our friends will continue to need us to enter into the hurt. We don't say we are weary or that we already threw some money at the need. We allow the victims to be exactly where they are emotionally for as long as they need to be there. As grief-walkers, we refuse to rush them in the journey. We plant seeds of joy along the way but we patiently wait for God to bring the harvest of healing and restoration.
I've had the word unity on my heart today. Lord, unify our hearts in the midst of the rubble. "May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me." {Jesus speaking in John 17:23}
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