Last night after I came back from my drug trip (and by “trip” I mean driving to and from Walgreens, nothing more) I turned on the TV and watched the Dateline special on Katrina. I really don’t know how much more of the news I can take. I was sitting there just bawling as image after image of sad, heartbroken, desolate, stranded, and pretty much hopeless people was shown. I hate that I can’t do anything. I hate that all I can do is pray and give. I know that sounds horrible, but it seems so inadequate somehow. It’s times like these that I wish I were in the medical profession so I could at least be of some service. Or I wish I could at least be in my hometown, where practically every church is hosting refugees.
Refugees. That word seems an odd description for people who live in the US, but in this case it fits. New Orleans has become a sort of “third-world state” in the middle of the richest country on earth. It baffles me that it’s taking so long to get supplies to people down there. It baffles me that people stayed despite being told to evacuate. It baffles me that in a time of severe crisis, we can see both the best in people–the giving, the helping hands, the sense of community–and the worst in people–the looting and the violence.
And what I cannot even begin to comprehend is how people will make it through this without God. I can’t imagine being in the middle of this mess and not having God to turn to. How empty a life that would be! And in all actuality, that is how life is every day for people who don’t know my Jesus, and yet it takes something like this for me to begin to understand what that’s like. Lord, this is much too big for me to understand, but You encompass all and are over all, and it is to You that I beg for relief for those who are suffering, food for those who are hungry, warms beds for those who are weary, and hope for the utterly hopeless. You are the worker of miracles, Lord; show us Your power. Amen.