Faith is also not the absence of action

The day after the March 27th mass shooting at Covenant Presbyterian School in Nashville I received an early morning text message from one of my close mom friends. She was stuck in a cycle of despair, for the children and teachers lost in Nashville, but also for her own daughters, as she attempted to put on a happy face, helping her girls pack their bags and escorting them to the bus stop. If God is good, how could such a tragedy happen? How do we retrieve our joy and hope when we’re constantly bracing ourselves for the next crisis, and for the possibility that our own loved ones could be the next victims?

I admit I’m still stuck in a similar loop of despair, so my main response to my friend was “you are not alone,” which is probably the most important thing a grieving person needs to hear anyways. But later, as I was driving and continuing to think about my friend, I tried again to see our despair through the lens of faith. I admit I tried this after the Richneck shooting on January 6th and never heard God’s voice, despite, what is it now, 12 weeks? of praying and asking God for answers. But as I type this in the midst of Holy Week I’m reminded of the despair of Jesus, his family and his friends, when he was tortured and killed. How they thought God had abandoned them as well but, at Easter, love had the last word. Faith, hope, love, and joy are not the absence of evil and ugliness, just the assurance that God’s goodness will always win out in the end.
 
Faith is also not the absence of action, and you’re darn skippy that my friend and I will pick each other up and continue contacting our representatives, donating money, and getting involved locally. I added on to my text message to my friend later: what is true joy: an absence of sadness, or happiness that manifests itself despite our ups and downs? What is more beautiful, a perfect Marie-Kondo-tidied home, or a flower popping up in the cracks of the asphalt of an abandoned strip mall? I love me some Marie Kondo but the image of the flower asserting itself in an empty parking lot does a lot more to shore up my hope. On Easter, Jesus burst forth from the empty tomb, not without his scars, but with the physical assurance that God is greater than any of it (even if you don’t hear God’s voice for twelve weeks…or twelve years…). I hope your Easter celebration was full of hope and joy, and your coming days and weeks are full of little resurrections.
 
Ginny Chilton
Minister of Music