When the Night Comes.

Over the past few days my facebook newsfeed has been filled with calls for prayer. Yesterday, Ada United Methodist church in Northern Ohio was consumed in flames. This was the first church my mom attended as a small child, and it is a special place to my family and so many others who found sacred community there. There is something really terrifying about seeing a church, an image of sacredness, peace and stability ablaze. Looking at this photo, I couldn't help feeling like nothing is safe.

Then today, I saw the news that Lori Webster, my old boss and friend, is still facing a hard battle with cancer coupled with lupus. Lori is an amazing worship leader, friend and mother; and she is easily one of the most passionate, creative and encouraging people I have ever met. The cancer they had thought she'd beaten has come back with a vengeance, and her blood disease has made it impossible to treat the cancer and has led to multiple strokes. This news is heart-breaking to say the least. You can read more about Lori's story here.

In the wake of tragedy that feels senseless, sometimes it is hard to find the sacred. I feel inadequate to make sense and hope out of these dark places. There is no easy fix-- sometimes no matter how deep our faith, or how fervent our prayers, pain and destruction swallows up people and places that we love.

But somehow I still believe that even the places of death and destruction are not beyond God's reach. During lent, I am reminded that the desert journey sometimes looks hopeless, and darker than we can bear. But I find comfort in knowing that God is with us even here, and I know that God is not indifferent to such suffering. Somehow, I feel that God's heart is breaking with mine.

This hauntingly beautiful song by Josh Garrells (with incredible animation by Daniel&Arien) reminds me of the Easter promise that God is present with us, even as the night comes.

"when the night comes and you don't know which way to go... You will never be alone."