Thursday, January 14, 2010
It's been more than 48 hours. And I still can't turn away. The earthquake in Haiti has me undone, searching for words to process what has happened. I have missionary friends there, all of whom are safe and accounted for, but as I watch CNN, I'm reminded that not everyone is. Talk of mass burials. Children trapped in collapsed schools. People frantically searching for news of the whereabouts of loved ones. It's mind-numbing. I feel helpless. Sure, I can pray. And give. But at the end of the day, it seems to fall so short. Suffering. Agony. Cries in the darkness.
Even as I type this, the lyrics of a Chris Tomlin song are pumping through my speakers, "Rejoice, oh world. Your Savior has come...born that we may have life." And it's at moments like these that I realize how true these words are. In the midst of pain. In the midst of raw emotion. Yes, even in the midst of death. Jesus was born that we may have life. And I'm no theologian. And I don't pretend to think that this would be some spiritual band-aid for those who are devastated. But I realize that, just as the devastation is great, and the darkness is deep, so too is the hope. Hope in the face of missionaries and aid workers. Civilians who lend a hand, and an entire day to see a neighbor freed from the rubble. And with each rescued one, I hear the words "Rejoice oh world, your Savior has come...born that we may have life," and they take on a whole new meaning.
(image acquired from www.thetelegram.com)