Jesus, divine Brother of mine,
I do not understand.
You are merciful and faithful
Yet, pouf, they’re gone.
The grandmas and papas, the sisters and cousins, the brothers and uncles
The aunts, the moms, the dads, the kids…and the critters
The houses, the places of work and worship; of healing and learning.
Pouf. Gone.
I don’t get it.
You could intervene and don’t.
Is it the scribe in me looking for a sign?
Would I be blind to it had You averted the disaster?
You tell us that our end is date is written long before our first breath.
Your warning to be ready always— —
Understanding echoes in my spirit,
deep with weight and rumbling
Though no where close to the depth of thundering grief
Of those who left behind
in this foreshadow of rapture and wrath.
Oh, but sweet Lord
It is so upsetting, discombobulating
anger burns and my heart is shattered
leaving my soul in distress…
and I have suffered nothing…
But those poor people,
the ones left to pick-up the pieces—
so many pieces—
the ones left to rebuild and bury,
the ones to lend their hands and their backs,
to give their hearts and their love.
Why such devastation?
Why such misery?
Why such pain?
Only the faith of a child can accept that You know
what part of Your glorious plan this desolation fulfills.
I believe! Help me in my unbelief!1
My spirit can only
look to Your crown, my King of kings.
My soul can only
cling tighter to Your cross, my Redeemer.
My heart can only cry to You:
May all that You gathered home be residents of Heaven when I arrive
May those left behind find Your mercy and compassion in those You send to help
Bless the hands and the hearts of Your workers
Let Your blessing multiplier work a thousand thousand-fold
Let Your grace weave comfort in devastated souls,
Let our prayers join with theirs.
Hear them Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Let it be so. Amen.
1From Mark 9:24
Scattered Verses 