Tragedy Saturation

Hurricane Irma hits Ft. Lauderdale

It's been a bizarre few weeks. First Hurricane Harvey, then Hurricane Irma with Jose close behind. In the middle of all that, we commemorated the 16th anniversary of 9-11 and heard the devastating report of a magnitude 8.1 earthquake in Mexico, the largest to hit our southern neighbor in over a century. Understandably, disasters and tragic events have occupied headlines for nearly three weeks.

With multiple 24 hour news networks and a Weather Channel that profits off of bad weather, it's no wonder that we've been saturated with tragic news. Jim Contore has become a household name, and Facebook is blowing up with videos of on-site reporters being blown away by 100 mph winds.   

There's much to be said of the news coverage. No doubt lives were saved because adequate notice of the hurricane's potential impact was given. Thousands more were prepared in ways they may never have considered. Thankfully the attention has encouraged an outpouring of support from around the world, raising millions of dollars for necessary relief efforts. 

As thankful as I am for all the coverage, I wonder if I've become saturated. The emotional part of my brain can only process so much tragedy before I become numb or, worse, disinterested. And having given so much attention to Harvey and Irma, do I have the emotional capacity to care about Mexico's earthquake or fires out West or whatever else CNN tells me I should be concerned about?  

On days like these I appeal to scripture. In particular Psalm 46 comes to mind as a powerful reminder of God's determination to bring order from chaos. May it be our prayer for these rather tumultuous times: 

O God, you are our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult. 

You are in the midst of the city, therefore it shall not be moved; 

You will help when the morning dawns.
The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. 

Peace to you and yours. 

Needed: Another Miriam

Two of our high school youth on mission in Guatemala

I’m in the early stages of study for our upcoming sermon series entitled “We Can’t Stay Here: the life and times of Moses.” I’ve always loved the book of Exodus, and this series gives us another chance to dive deeply into a story that is of immeasurable importance in our journey of faith. 

One of the themes we’ll wrestle with is the remarkable sense of irony throughout the book of Exodus. Think about the first two chapters alone, when God uses five women to save Israel from the brutality of Pharaoh, eventually saving Moses, a slave’s baby, from sure and certain death. Of particular note is his young sister, Miriam, who went to the river that day armed with a plan that would deliver all of Israel.

Irony and surprise is everyone. 

We’re facing some challenges these days, aren’t we? Nationally, sure; but I’m thinking mostly about the challenges we face as a community. 

Last Friday night I had dinner with the retired police commander of Hickory who asked, “What’s going on in Salisbury?”

There’s no doubt that Salisbury has elements of being that quintessential Southern town described in a “Bury Home Companion.” The  lovely sense of home, the rich appreciation of history, and the beauty of culture surround us in Salisbury. 

But so does the sound of gunfire and the daily reminder that local drug addiction has taken a heavy, heavy toll.

Irony. 

One of the things I love most about Exodus is the way God surprises us over and over again, using the most unexpected of people to do remarkably liberating things. 

Who are we to suggest that God might not be ready to do the same thing here in Salisbury? Might God be preparing unexpected persons to rise up and be messengers of liberation and peace? One never knows. 

One thing I’ve noticed about Salisbury is that we tend to go to the same people over and over again for answers, contributions, and leadership. No doubt, many of these folks have been incredibly wise and generous over the years. 

But as I look into the future, I find myself praying that God might be preparing someone like Miriam to be the next source of inspiration. 

I wonder who that could be. Might it be you? Might it be someone you currently mentor? One never knows. 

Another thing I’ve learned over the years: don’t underestimate the power of young people. And don’t question God’s use of Divine Irony to bring hope and inspiration to people living in darkness. 

So, what do we do in challenging times like these?

Here’s a suggestion: like Miriam, let’s imagine a future that is filled with hope and possibility for all, not just a few.

And like Miriam, let’s dare to let God use us — yes, us — as his agents of hope for this weary world.

As ironic and surprising as that may be.