In The Face of Tragedy ......

According to Henry Ward Beecher, a clergyman from the 19th Century …..

Greatness lies not in being strong, but in the right use of strength; and strength is not used rightly when it only serves to carry a man above his fellows for his own solitary glory. He is greatest whose strength carries up the most hearts by the attraction of his own.

This morning when I first went outside a little after sunrise, I took in my surroundings with a renewed sense of appreciation for the beauty and organization that was mine, especially considering the devastation that occurred less than one hundred miles to the northeast following the carnage left in the wake of a deadly tornado. That same storm had come over my own home about an hour and a half prior to making landfall when I noticed the day had suddenly turned to night within the course of only a few minutes as the torrential rains mercilessly pounded against the windows and the trees began to dart and dance in an awkward circular motion, as if they were being shaken by their roots, but at that point it lacked the strength it needed to form into that familiar silhouette that strikes fear in the hearts and minds of anyone whose acquainted with the sheer power they’re capable of exerting against anyone or anything that stands in their path.

It’s difficult to fully process the images ….. a man standing alone with his back facing you while he silently surveys the pile of rubble before him that only moments before represented his home; the twisted remains of what had once been a child’s treasured stuffed animal, soiled and lying face down in a muddy ditch; sedans, trucks, SUV’s and tractor-trailer rigs crumpled like discarded pieces of paper strewn unnaturally over an abandoned stretch of highway; and what was once a bustling neighborhood convenience store stands in ruin as testimony to the eerie calm that always follows these storms while those affected are forced to pause in order to catch their breath before screaming out in agony.

What was once a vibrant community outside of a popular neighboring college town surrounded by even smaller townships and communities was leveled for the second time in three years almost to the day following Sunday evening’s ½ mile wide tornado that ripped through a 60 mile swath of rural Arkansas on what was supposed to be a day of rest. Like the serial killer intent on collecting the lives of his hapless victims, so too did this storm claim the lives of fourteen, including two children, as well as seriously injuring many others. It was indescribably quick, unforgiving and intent upon leaving its indelible mark.

Surveying the damage, it’s difficult to comprehend just how anyone could recover from such loss, but you do, because you have to and because so many before you have been forced to do the same for any number of reasons both natural and manmade, but mainly because devastation of this nature always gives rise to that which is best about the human spirit …… namely its will to survive in the face of adversity, as well as its necessity to reach out to those in peril as a means to show we are ‘one’ united in mind, body and soul, held together by faith in the greater good. People who might otherwise have never had the opportunity to meet join together, compelled by the common desire to do ‘something’ that will help. Complete strangers donate time, blood, money and whatever resources they have in order to show others they are not alone in their struggles. Countless prayers are offered up as one collective voice soliciting the tender mercies that all those affected so richly deserve, and for once politicians ban together – not as conservatives or liberals – but as Arkansans reaching out to the communities they represent. Times like these serve as reminders that not all angels among us sport wings.

In time the debris will be cleared, homes and businesses rebuilt and memorials erected to remember those lives lost. Life will at some point take on the characteristics of normalcy as day-to-day existence takes on the appearance of what it used to look like before the storm of April 27th. However, for the survivors life has forever changed. One cannot experience something of this magnitude and not have their perception of their place in the world permanently altered. For now sorrow has arrived and happiness has taken leave. It cannot stand pain, therefore it dies in the face of suffering. On the other hand, one day joy will once again rise from the sorrow and as a result, it can withstand grief. By the grace of God, joy is the transfiguration of suffering into endurance, of endurance into character, and of character into hope, and where there is hope all things remain possible.

In times like this when there is little within sight to hold on to, it’s best to remember a saint doesn’t know the joy of the Lord in spite of tribulation, but because of it. Paul said, “I am exceedingly joyful in all tribulation.”