This post is about the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting. I know not everyone might be receptive to reading my thoughts, so I wanted to mention the subject immediately.
It was a tough weekend.
We actually experienced some wonderful things over the weekend. I won’t expound on those things now, as they are not my subject. But there were some great encouragements and fellowships experienced over the weekend, for which I am overwhelmed and thankful. We saw some prayers answered.
The reason it was a tough weekend was because of the impact that the school shooting on Friday had on me. Having a 6 year old little princess of my own drastically altered my perspective about this event. I can’t imagine.
Nor can I provide answers. I won’t humiliate myself by trying to give a rationale for why any child deserves what happened on Friday; why any family deserves to have a hole where a precious, innocent child was.
Nor will I turn to the infuriatingly irrational, “too-soon” subject matters that our media and many people are now discussing.
Mental hospital budgets.
The media and their role.
There will be a time and a place for discussing those things. It isn’t yet. Not for me.
My 2 girls were sleeping and I quietly snuck into their room and just watched them for a few minutes. How angelic they are when sleeping! How much I love them. And I put my hand on each of them and fervently prayed that they and their brother would be protected from evil such as our nation experienced this weekend. And I prayed for the families that have experienced the first-hand effects of that evil.
I didn’t want to lead worship yesterday. I didn’t want to be on stage. I wanted to grieve. Of course, I had to do what I had to do, and God granted me the grace and strength to do so. Yesterday was a blessing. But I am still, like many of you, grieving.
As I was thinking about it, I was reminded of when Jesus openly displayed sorrow in the face of death. I’m talking about the account of Lazarus.
32 When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34 “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. 35 Jesus wept. 36 Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
It is an interesting fact. Jesus wept. He was the resurrection and the life. Lazarus’ tomb had “zero” power over Jesus. And yet, he wept.
I’ve read more than a few theories of why he wept. For Lazarus; for Mary and Martha; for the Jews; for his own impending crucifixion.
I think that Jesus saw Mary weeping, as well as the Jews with her, and he was displaying sorrow at this life’s reality of suffering and death. He was fully man as well as fully God. It was honest, raw, heartfelt, sincere sorrow.
I remember the sorrow I felt when my grandfather passed away. Of course, I wouldn’t wish him back. But I wept like a small child that day.
Without getting into the theology of why I believe so, I do believe those precious souls are in a much (infinitely so) better place now. That’s an easy thing to say, as I can still hug my 6 year old today.
For now, it’s ok to weep. It’s ok to grieve. The explanations and finger-pointing can wait. Healing will come, but it will come slowly. Christ himself showed us that we can join others’ sadness with heartfelt sorrow. We can weep.
And we can pray that God will grant things that only He can grant, in measures that only He can grant them. Peace. Healing. Grace. Love.