I’m weary and broken
I don’t recognize this place
There is nothing left
I’m struggling for even a remnant of faith
My stomach begs for just a taste
My throat cries out for water
How do I hold on and believe
When I feel let go by the hand of my Father?
Where are you God?
Please, please show me your face.
Are you digging through the rubble with me?
Can these ashes reveal your grace?
Although I do not even dare try to understand the depths of grief and loss felt by the Haitian people in the last week, like many, I have mourned for them and asked God questions on their behalf – only to find that peace and resolve do not come quickly or easily. As a person of faith, a follower of Christ, I have no profound summaries of God’s purposes in this tragedy. I can’t give an articulate, theological response to the question, “Why?” And I’m not sure we are supposed to, either. I’m feeling anger, devastation, helplessness, and doubt in the midst of trying to trust God at the same time, too. So, today, there are no bullet points to keep in mind – just an honest lament for our brothers and sisters in Haiti. One truth I do cling to – that God allows us to be right where we are on this road of reluctant belief and rigorous questions – and I think he’ll join us on that journey.