by the waters of babylon
we sat down & wept I couldn’t have been here more than a month; I was making a hospital visit, when out of nowhere she asked: “what do you think, why would God let Pastor Chuck die so young.” That was the first time I touched, for myself, the scar that had ripped across this place. I knew that Pastor Chuck’s sudden and tragic death was a part of this place’s story. That day, though, I learned that the scar was still raw. That day I learned that tragedy had ripped across you all and left sorrow and that terrible question in its wake, “why.” That day in the hospital, the woman I was visiting had known me for as long as about ten minutes, and Pastor Chuck’s death had happened over ten years ago. Yet, when she was confronted with someone from Trinity, the first question on her lips wasn’t “how are you,” but “ how could God let something like this happen.” We all know what that’s like, too; to be tormented by some tragedy that prods at what we think we know about G...