We seem to

become more theological in our thinking in times of

crises. We're good at asking "why?" Why didn't

God stop that plane from crashing? As one who has been

called to think about God, I try to defend him in

tragedy. I'm wrong. God doesn't need me to defend him.

He's God!

In many instances, to ask

"why" presupposes someone is there to answer.

And he is. Right now, he is pouring out his great love to

the families of the victims. You ask them in a couple of

weeks about the great love of God and the great comfort

of God and the great presence of God. And they will tell

you.

But you ask, "Where

was God early Sunday morning?" I've got a better one

than that: where was he during the holocaust? I've got

another one: where was he when Herod was massacring all

boys under the age of two in the city of David nearly two

thousand years ago? You could add to the list. Where was

he when my loved one was murdered? Where was he when my

daughter was killed by a drunk driver? Where was he? The

intensity of our questions presupposes a significant

depth to the purpose of life. People on board that plane

were precious people, deeply loved and cherished. Yet,

what do we know?

We know that God is light

and in him there is no darkness. Tragedy is full of

darkness.

We know that God is love

and his love is kind. An airplane crash is no kind thing.

We can only imagine the thoughts of passengers and crew

as the plane nose-dived. Only imagine what John F.

Kennedy Jr. was thinking as he piloted his plane into the

Atlantic Ocean with wife and sister-in-law on board.

As much as we want to

"fix" everything: insure that no plane will

ever crash; make sure that no child ever will be killed

in an automobile or stroller accident, it happens. We

live in a dangerous world. The Wright Brothers invented a

killer machine as well as Henry Ford. We live in an

incompleted world. Hurricanes. Mud slides. Volcanoes.

Floods. The "tragic" dwindling numbers of the

spotted owl. Man's inhumanity to man. As the bumper

sticker reminded us, "stuff happens." So, when

I stubbed my toe as a child, I cried, "Mama."

The answer somehow to my pain and suffering was a person,

someone who loved me and could help me deal with the

pain. Did Mama ever move back the hand of time so as to

erase the stubbed toe? No. She simply took care of it as

it was in all its ugliness.

Now, please don't think I

think a stubbed toe is anything like an airplane

disaster. But the answer may be alike. We cry out,

"God help me!" Maybe we are not at the stage of

asking why, but we want some comfort in our pain and

suffering.

The miracle of God is that

God shows up when life breaks down. Is it his fault that

life and engines break down? No! No! No! Even when it's

not his fault, he comes to the scene and does a totally

new, redemptive, caring thing.

Sit back and watch. Watch

God break through so much that the media must report it.

The Rev. Dr. John

Hatcher is pastor of River's Edge Community Church in

Fayetteville.

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