Friday, December 14, was my birthday. I turned 27. I was having a great day (and I really did have a fantastic birthday) when I heard the news that etched December 14 in everyone’s minds for a different reason. In the midst of my personal celebration there was a tremendous tragedy. Six adults and twenty children – none of whom will now reach their 27th birthday – were senselessly and tragically killed at Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut. In a nation so often rocked by tragedy, this is just one more to leave us collectively stumbling around, dazed and utterly confused. Recriminations fly, fingers are pointed and laws proposed, much of it in a desperate attempt to find meaning, to restore order to our world, to cover the incredible pain.
I saw facebook posts, and heard radio DJs, and read newspaper articles, and they all had a very similar tone: a sense of being overwhelmed. We’re so close to Christmas, and now so many families will have to deal with the pain of an empty seat at the table, a missing face in the family Christmas photo. What are we going to do in the wake of this tragedy? What CAN we do? A good friend of mine summed it up well: “It’s all so overwhelming. It just seems so wrong to go back to regular everyday life…”
Today, in the midst of this shock, I bore witness to a young woman’s baptism. I heard her deliver her testimony – hear voice broke several times, talking about the wonderful love of Jesus to select her as His own. I saw her eyes sparkle when she told us of the incredible joy she had to know that she was a chosen daughter of God Most High, and I saw the giant smile on her face as she came up from the water publicly proclaiming her choice to follow God’s will with her whole life. I saw the church – God’s chosen body on Earth – leap to their feet and cheer and applaud and CELEBRATE a life openly committed to Christ.
Today I felt God’s heart leap for joy, with pride for His precious daughter. Today I saw the powerful impact God’s love can have on a human life. I walked out of that service singing with all I had out of pure happiness, knowing that even in the midst of tragedy God is still Lord.
It hurts to know that there are today parents arranging funerals for their children. It hurts to know that so many people are choosing this opportunity to greet people with pointing fingers instead of open arms. It hurts to know that this is not the worst tragedy that has befallen our world, and that there are worse yet to come.
But in the midst of pain and suffering and horrible loss, I have a reason to sing. I have seen today with my own eyes this one amazing truth:
I want to speak to every member of every grieving family today, and hold them and look them in the eye and say, “Hope is not dead.” I want to stand on a high point over every city where flags are flying at half mast and call out, “Hope is not dead!” I want to tell you, whoever you are reading this, “Hope is not dead.”
Jesus Christ is alive, and powerful, and working in this world. No matter how high the darkness rises, no matter how futile it seems to even get up in the morning, HOPE – that beautiful, blessed hope of a brighter day and a better world and a perfect Savior – hope is not dead. My Hope is alive.
