I wanted to have the words…the right words. Words to comfort and give revelation, power and healing.
But they didn’t come.
I wanted to write about suffering and God’s purpose, about evil and overcoming.
But, I didn’t and…I can’t.
I wanted something I read somewhere else to comfort me and encourage me, to remind me of God’s goodness and His sovereignty.
But, I never did. I read words–beautiful words–that offered hope, but did not ease the pain.
I wanted to do something, anything, besides cry and pray, and cry some more.
But, I couldn’t.
But this is what I know…
That even when I can’t feel it, Jesus Christ is still good….
And even when I can’t see it, Jesus Christ is still King.
And I know this, that evil exists–and not in some abstract, untouchable, unknowable way. It exists now. Evil lives and breathes and destroys.
And it kills.
It kills dreams, and futures, marriages, and tomorrows, somedays, and families, innocence, and God’s promises.
Evil, on that day, thwarted God’s plans. Evil won.
But, I know this too…
It’s not over. The story is still being told and still being written.
God has not been subtracted from its telling. No.
He is thick and in the midst of it. He is the one doing the writing from here on out.
And if we allow Him, and we pray His power and purpose into being, and we allow Jesus to gather us up like a hen and her chicks, and we don’t forget the pain and the horror, and we surround ourselves in His beauty, then maybe…
Just maybe…
The story we will tell our children will have a different ending, where death and destruction is not the finale.
Where hope sprang forth and suffering had it’s terrible and glorious way in us. Not wasted. Not in vain. And not without making someone, anyone, more like the shining Son.
And I know this…
Beyond anything else, as sure as anything I have ever believed…
On that day, and beyond…
Jesus wept.