Sometimes a blow is so hard that you reel from its force although you are not the one directly hit. Akin to how tremors are felt miles away from the epicenter of an earthquake. This happened to me and thousands of others this past weekend.
I remind myself that You are the Ancient of Days, the Judge of the whole earth, the One Who knows all and sees all, and works all things, even the most shattering things, together for those who love You.
There is no refuge, no solace in the whys and the hows. Refuge and solace are found only in You and in Your compassion poured into and out of human vessels like Ann Voskamp, a sister I have met only through her heart-birthed, grace-laden words. For example, her July 15th post, “How to live after the verdict is in.”
You call us to trust You, not understand, and my trust does not require understanding. You are the God of all comfort and Your consolations are not too small for me. You heal the brokenhearted and bind up wounds. You are writing this and all other stories and so in my heart I repeat a verse of the song “Scarlet Hands.”
When sorrow tries my hope to kill
To worship I have reason still
For light will pierce the darkest night
And peace shall be my lullaby
You are faithful, just, and true, Abba, and I look to You.