I dreamt of mosquito net canopies cascading from tree branches overhead in the wild and woke up in my bed in Mexico to buzzing in my ear. I picked up my phone hoping it would say 5:00 but saw 3:00. AP flashed across the top of my screen that there had been a bombing in Brussels. Oh God, when will it end, who was it that died, what mother is weeping and why?
The birds that echoed with laughter yesterday sound angry today—their calls like battle cries as they hide like cowards in the trees.
To the God who cares for the sparrow and who knows the number of hairs on my head just as much as He cares for all the far reaching heavens and all souls who have lived from the beginning of time to its end, how do I ask…What of this, Lord? What will I say this morning if someone asks, Where is your God?
Against the backdrop of birds’ sounds from above, children’s voices below and a fisherman’s motor from afar, the water appears bluer than I’ve seen, the sand whiter. In silence I can see more. In the pride of my heart, dare I sit on the throne of God, and ask of His heart, this Heart of the seas, anything more, than to weed out my own heart of all sin and pride. I’ll go there.
I have no words to comfort, no answers…
One question, Lord, in my quiet may I ask?
Can the world’s war that began in a single heart, end there too?
And one request of my heart as the cries ring out in your ears? Cast down your net of protection over the grieving souls?