I Can Feel It

Life sometimes throws curveballs. Today, for me, it came in the form of a notice on my computer at work. Not the best of places to find a curveball, but it was there nonetheless. On the screen, the note said that two kids from my school were killed in a freak accident of carbon monoxide poisoning. That was it - short and to the point. Not the best of ways to find a curveball, but it was there nonetheless.

I knew the guys. Not well, but I knew them. I knew a lot of people who knew them much better than I did, people who were much more affected by the news than I was. I saw tears, I saw fears, and I saw a blankness in people's faces, one of those blank disbeliefs that stare into the middle distance, stunned in silence. This life that we run so quickly suddenly stops. Plans are scrapped. Events are postponed.

Life stops.

And God. Where was he? People are mad, minds are blank, and where is he, we ask? "I will work all thing for good..." (Romans 8:28) but how on earth is this good? "I have a plan for you..." (Jeremiah 29:11) he says, but how does that plan involve this, we ponder? We cannot help but wonder, in these times of totally unbelievable tragedy, how we are supposed to be comforted by something like Revelation 21:4 which says that God will wipe every tear from our eye, no more sorrow, and no more pain when we here on earth are wrenching in sorrow and pain? These questions roll around our heads in times of chaos. I myself dealt with these issues to a degree, but it could be seen distinguished on the faces of every person who stood there, dumbfounded by the news.

Because life stopped. For all of us.

And in a still small voice, that evening on my computer screen shone, a simple message of few words written by a friend. It glowed gently, randomly, and individually. It was yet another curveball on my computer screen. It said:

Somebody's prayin'. I can feel it.

A lone message in a world of expansive networking stood out like a small voice in a silent crowd. What is the prayer? I don't know. Are they even praying about the same thing? I don't know. But the point remains not in the content of the prayer, but in the prayer itself. It's out there. Somebody's doing it. Questions still remain, life has still been stalled, but that voice starts a recovery. Whether it be death, addiction, heartache, or depression. Whether it stuns, stalls, stops, or halts. Whether we are full of questions or can't think at all. Somebody's praying.

And life starts again for all of us slowly and with a still, small prayer.

"God... help."

***

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory."

—1 Corinthians 15:54 

Dedicated to Mike Hillman and Jesse Andrus - may you rest in heavenly peace. April 12, 2010