Much of the public discourse this week has focused on the mass shootings that continue to plague our nation and break our hearts. While some politicians and pundits point fingers, the rest of us are just reeling and wondering how we can live normal lives in a world that feels so unsafe.
Somehow, we have to cope with this mess we find ourselves in. If we dwell on all the potential threats out there, we’ll make ourselves crazy. We’re told to be mindful of our surroundings and to take wise precautions, but how can we know if we’re sliding down the slippery slope from responsible mindfulness to paranoia and paralysis?
I apologize for getting so atypically heavy today, but I want to take you along on my personal journey as I processed these recent, horrific expressions of evil.
The writer of Psalm 73, Asaph, clearly struggled with the issue of evil, too. He wondered if God saw or cared, and if He did, why did He allow it to continue? The psalmist admitted that his frustration and despair made him feel “senseless and ignorant … like a beast.”
I get that. When I awoke last Sunday to news of the second mass shooting in 24 hours, I was angry. And I grieved for everyone who’d lost someone they loved; I was afraid for the people I love; and I was despondent because it feels like this terrifying horse is so far out of the barn, we’ll never get it back in again.
So last Sunday morning I did what I’ve learned is the only thing I can do when the darkness feels so overwhelming and oppressive: like the psalmist Asaph, I went to God. I turned off the news, read the Bible, prayed, and then listened to a steady stream of praise music as I was getting ready to go to church. I pushed the darkness from my mind and heart with the light that only God’s perspective and truth can bring.
Like another psalmist, David, when my heart felt “faint,” I called out to God and He faithfully led me to “the rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:2)—the only vantage point from which we can see things clearly. If we stay down in the mess, it’s hard to see anything but the mess.
In Psalm 23, David assures us that as we walk “through the valley of the shadow of death”—surely an apt description of our times—we don’t have to fear because God is with us. Those aren’t just words; they are reality. He is with us and at any time we can turn and ask Him, “What do You see and say about this? How can I cope with this?”
As we read His Word for wisdom and lean on the comfort and strength of His Spirit, we can live not just “normal” lives in an unsafe world, but supernatural lives. We can know that what He doesn’t deliver us from, He will deliver us through, strengthening our hearts with His promise that this present darkness won’t last forever. In the end, He wins, and if we’re in Him, we’ll win, too.
Until then, God is the invisible but invincible refuge we can run into when the enemy attacks. When I did that last Sunday, like Asaph I could say: “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26).
Our leaders are tasked with a nearly impossible job because ultimately, there are no legislative solutions for spiritual problems. But while they sort that out, we can and must press on.
How? “Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14).