Prisms of the Prince of Peace
Tiffany and I are away, essentially off the grid celebrating our wedding anniversary. We thank everyone for the overwhelming and sweet comments shared on our special day. We were out all day yesterday enjoying the beauty of creation, totally oblivious to the horrific events in Uvalde, TX until late last evening.
The news breaks my heart. I am haunted by the thought of families starting today without their babies. I was going to suggest that they were waking up this morning to that reality, but I know better. The loss of a child obliterates a parent. It is a hallowing out that no person should ever endure. Life can be experienced again, but it will always be different. Sleepless nights are just part of the cruelty because they string together numerous days as one long recurring waking nightmare.
Tiffany and I discussed on a number of occasions this week how badly we miss our Mia. We are in one of her favorite places, so everywhere we go and everything we do is splashed with memory. I am grateful we are at that point where we laugh a lot more than weep, but it’s been a long, difficult journey. People frequently stated after Mia passed away that they couldn’t fathom the loss of a child. I typically replied by acknowledging the unique suckitude of the grief while admitting we knew she had a life threatening medical condition and confessing how much worse it could have felt if she was lost to an act of violence. That evil is unconscionable to me. My heart, mind, and soul is screaming out for the families starting their journey down a road no one wants to travel. The boisterous and broken-down screaming prayers of “WHY GOD WHY?!?” are totally appropriate. After all, that is a statement of faith as you acknowledge that Someone is there to hear the despair.
Friends, what we are seeing today is another example of the deep depravity of the human heart. We can debate and discuss the tools used to commit such atrocities, but murder has been breaking God’s heart since Cain and Abel (Genesis 4). God said He could hear the screams of Abel’s blood from emanating from the ground God (Gen.4:10). I know deep in my soul that God is hearing the deafening screams of suffering from violence right now, and it breaks His heart. God heard my own, taking some of the most atrocious abuse even in prayer (yep, Tiff and I both unleashed a torrent of expletives a time or two ourselves), yet still comforts and consoles the obliterated life. I am convinced my relationship with God is stronger today because I got rawthentic (one of my combined words of raw and authentic) in my own brokenness. I believe God honors that because only a real Creator can give us the real ability to really feel those real feelings. We must be careful since our feelings can deceive us, but the truth remains that God allows brokenness so we can see where we end and He begins.
I am so thankful for the heroic nature of the teachers who nurture these kids while they are in their care. One of the educators in the church I serve posted on social media about how such atrocities are always on their mind. I actually witnessed it once, personally experiencing the potential terror. Tiffany and I went to the primary school Mia attended for a parent-teacher conference. The school went on lockdown while we were there because of an explosive situation at the building adjacent to the school. I saw the staff spring into action as soon as the lockdown call went throughout the school. Tiffany and I huddled up with Mia, her classmates, and teachers trying to keep everyone calm. Bookcases became barricades. School desks became bunkers. Every single one of us tried to get as small and silent as possible. That is, except for Mia (of course) who started acting out in her anxiety. We could see shadows of people walking down the hall and silhouettes of people outside the window while she moaned and groaned in fear. I tried to keep my arms around her for comfort, and hand across her mouth for quiet, but the harder I tried, the more anxious she grew. We had no idea what was happening. It was one of those terrifying moments as a community helper, husband, and dad where I was priming myself to act regardless of the cost. Once the local police were able to clear the area, I witnessed something I’ll never forget: teachers rushing children to school busses waiting outside at a different location from usual, surrounded by police officers and squad cars, but still using their own bodies as potential human shields to protect those children. Tiffany and I were asked to help do the same as extra sets of able-bodied adult hands. Everyone of those servants got big in the face of danger in an effort to protect the smallest in their care. The bravery I witnessed that day changed the way I feel about the people in whom I trust the safety of my children. Talk about a light shining in the darkness!
It’s a stormy day in Florida. I can’t help but think about how similar it is to the last full day we had down here with Mia before she went to be with Jesus. We went for a family dinner on our last night and a severe storm whipped around while we dined. After the storm and our plates were cleared, we headed out to the van. There was a brilliant rainbow in the sky that captivated Mia. She loved rainbows! She was, in fact, wearing a rainbow tee shirt, so we took some priceless pictures of her. That memory is one I’ll never forget. Now, whenever I see a rainbow, I think of her and remember God’s promise to Noah after the flood, that despite all of the evil depravity in the world, He would not wipe it out in a flood again. This is despite, as we read in Genesis 8:21, “Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood.” The rainbow was a sign of God’s promise to redeem the evil of humanity another way (Genesis 9:12-17). Enter Jesus to take on our sin and illuminate our darkness. It occurs to me that the faith, hope, and love Jesus personified is the only thing that will help in these troubled times.
I wish I could hop in my car and drive the 920 miles separating me from my current location and Robb Elementary School. I feel like I have to act…to do something….similarly to how I felt that day at Mia’s school. So the best acting I can do right now is to share my pastoral heart and perspective while praying for the families in Texas. I’ve seen and heard some out there saying, “F___ your prayers!”, but I know that comes from a place of despair. I also know I am essentially powerless against the spiritual forces of wickedness in this world apart from our Lord Jesus. I wish these atrocities did not happen, but they do. This is the result of our sin-stained world and constant rebellion from God. Still, the Lord grants us the freedom to choose and exercise our human will. Some choose violence and some choose virtue in the exact same moments. I believe in Jesus and His promise to overcome our fallen world. We need that. I pray for that peace to come and heal the shattered lives of the families in Uvalde — and everywhere for that matter — while overwhelming the evil in the world with the light of love.
But what are we to do in the meantime? Keep shining Jesus light by reflecting His image to creation. Fred Rogers talked about how his mother told him in times of tragedies to look to the helpers. There are helpers galore. This can inspire us do what Maya Angelou suggested as we “Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.” Friends, there are a lot of clouds out there today, literally and figuratively. Remember the promise of Scripture that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot comprehend it (John 1:5). That proves to me that the clouds might be obstructing the light, but they can’t stop it from shining. These are the times when we need to be the prisms of the Prince of Peace to channel the Light of the World into our broken and dreary world. And what do we see when a prism refracts light? A rainbow. So, may we commit our lives today to act…to get big in the face of evil to protect the vulnerable…to help share Jesus amongst the darkness by reflecting His image…to refract His light while trying to be a rainbow in someone’s clouds. There is a lot of darkness out there, so may we embody the symbol of God’s promise that He is with us and will overcome the evil. Yes, there will be grief and strife in the meantime, but not even a single tear falls in vain. I believe that and live by it. I want to encourage you to do so, too.
I pray that hope anchors your soul as we grieve with those who grieve, knowing God is first on the list of the broken-hearted. Help us Lord, Jesus. You’re our only hope.

