I believe in God’s grace.
I believe in His mercy.
I believe He is just.
But, I’ve been struggling to truly see these lately.
2 years ago, Typhoon Yolanda hit the Philippines, becoming the largest typhoon recorded to date.
Yolanda swept through town, demolishing anything in it’s way. To make matters worse, most houses near the water are made out of tarps, scraps of wood, and pieces of metal or tin, for these are the lowest income families.
The government warned citizens of Tacloban there was a typhoon coming and asked people to evacuate. Unfortunately, the government was unclear about the magnitude of the Typhoon would be, and Filipinos are used to living through over 24 typhoons every year, leaving people to believe they could stay in their houses and wait out the storm.
Unfortunately that was not the case, and over 10,000 lives were lost.
Nearly 2 years later, we still see signs of Typhoon Yolanda, with half standing buildings, empty and demolished homes, and scraps of metal everywhere. Most children suffer from PTSD, frightened of strong winds and rain.
I have no solution, wisdom or planned actions to take.
Situations like this make me feel helpless, and to be frank, cause me to question God’s hand and presence.
I sat in a circle with my team of fourteen women and was honest about my frustration, confusion, and desperation to understand God’s justice and mercy in this reality.
They both affirmed my questions, and challenged my stance; for the truth is, God is in it all, wether we see Him or not.
We are allowed to mourn. To sit and lament. To grieve with those who suffer. To grieve with the reality that is.
So I sit here, typing this blog in pain, and slight helplessness. Wanting to serve, not really knowing how, trusting that being here and simply caring and sitting with those who are also grieving and mourning will provide some sort of help and comfort while praying they feel seen, heard, and known.
I sit here, typing this blog in confusion. Sifting through the wonder of God, knowing He cares, loves, and works in everything, even though I am struggling to see His justice and mercy.
And I sit here, thankful that I have a God whom I can challenge and ask hard questions. I can sit and tell Him my frustrations, knowing He can handle the questions, and understanding He will listen and comfort, and recognizing He wants to repair, restore, renew, and heal.
And I sit here, aware of what He asks of me—even through my unsureness.
For this is what we are called to do when we know of no actions to take: sit and be.
Be available. Be loving. Be present.
This is what Jesus did. He didn’t always perform miracles and radically change lives. He walked with people. He sat with people. He grieved and laughed with people. He fed them physically and spiritually.
So this is where I’m at this month. Questioning and lamenting, but trusting that God has a plan for each and every kid I see running around in the nearby villages. Trusting He sees the Philippines, and every heart that needs repaired.
And trusting that somehow, someway, He will use me to be a part of His kingdom, whether I understand His plan or not.
“So do not fear for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10
