A week ago in Baton Rouge, we were in the midst of a severe thunderstorm. In Louisiana, that isn't too unusual. But this one would turn out to be anything but "usual."
Over a 48-hour span, two and half feet of rain fell on our area. It rained…and rained…and rained.
Statistics say that there is a .1 percent chance in any given year for that much rain to fall in that amount of time. But it did. Thus statistically it was the "1000 year flood." I guess we can take comfort in the theory that the next one isn't due until 3016.
But, for now, life has become a blur.
Last Sunday, we had church with a limited crowd. It was time to access whose house was flooded, who was in need. We handed out pages of our directory for people to call.
We sang. We reflected. We prayed. And then got organized to help…
But first we had to wait.
The rains and floods were not over. Streets were still closed. Floodwaters were still rising. Many neighborhoods were still in jeopardy. We needed a break in the weather. The weather forecast still showed rain for the rest of the week.
Prayers were offered and God was gracious. The rain stopped and the floodwaters began to recede.
Monday through Saturday were days to get mobilized. Teams went out from our church each day. Each house was different. Some sustained a foot of water; others sustained over six feet. Some were impacted by rising waters from backed up drainage canals; others were devastated by rushing river water.
Mud. Mold. Sweat. Stench.
Water-logged mattresses. Swollen furniture. Rotting food. Saturated books. Ruined photos. Mildewing clothes.
What was valuable, useful, personal the week before was now a soggy pile of garbage hauled to the street.
As the week progressed, the line of garbage grew…and reality began to set in. Life would not return to "normal" for thousands of people for several months…maybe even years.
While the rest of the world continued on, life in Louisiana pressed "pause."
I have heard that for the rest of the nation, the "Louisiana Flood" received little media attention. It was a storm with no name. It was overshadowed by presidential politics, Olympic events, and narcissistic swimmers lying about being robbed in Rio.
Personally I can understand why people could overlook our flood. There is so much tragedy in our world that it is simply hard to absorb. In some sense, we have all become numb.
Emotionally how many stories of suffering can we really take in?
People in Paris, Nice, Brussels, San Bernardino, Orlando, Istanbul, and other parts of the world are all still suffering…while, for most of us, life goes on.
It is like a death in your family. While the grief is real and raw for you, it only temporarily and superficially affects those around you.
And here's the caution. Our personal pain can quickly turn into anger and resentment toward others. One of the psalmists struggled with this very thing:
I believed, therefore I spoke, "I am greatly afflicted." I said in my haste, "All men are liars!" (Psalm 116:10-11)
The pattern is simple. I am hurting. I want relief. I look to you to make me feel better. You fail in some way. I get angry. The hurt deepens. And the cycle spirals downward.
But we must realize that life presses pause for all of us at some time or another.
And the pause is ultimately for us and not for others.
The pause forces us to stop. It interrupts our routine. It opens our eyes. It exposes our fears, our inadequacies, our idols. It reminds us that we are weak, fragile, mortal.
It confronts us with the fact that we are not in control.
With all the technology in the world…with all the radar…with all the forecasts…we still can't stop a storm, a flood, a rush of water from wiping away all that we hold onto in this world.
We can deny this…fight this…or run from this.
Or we can run to the only Rock that we have in this uncertain world.
The only Refuge in the storm. The only Ark in the flood.
Life presses pause so that we can find Life.
Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10).
Selah.
I pray God's perfect healing for the wounded hearts in this situation. One of the things that has moved me the most, are those people that lost it all and the all they had was so little compared to most of us in life. But when interviewed, it was evident that the lived a "yet" life. You knew they would likely never recover financially speaking, but they praised their Savior, Jesus.
Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places.
Habakkuk 3:17-19
I have prayed throughout the years that I would be able to live a "yet" life before the Lord. Praying for our community.
Thanks pastor Steve. I felt that anger and resentment this week as I grieved here in Texas and so many of my friends didn't reach out or know how much I was hurting. I realized my grief could not turn into anger and resentment, and I couldn't set high expectations on others to fill this need. This didn't directly impact them and their lives and families. They are in back to school mode and it's not directly in front of them. Many donated and helped get stuff to you when I expressed the need and we can all just pray, help as we can amd reach out, show grace, and have compassion; and ultimately let God be our healer.
Thanks, Megan. It is hard when your emotions are raw and right on the surface. I have had waves of just about every emotion this week. Thankfully the body of Christ has come together in very tangible ways this week. I am thankful for all the prayers and support that we have received…and thankful for all that you have done to help.
Pastor Steve,
You, your family and the entire church community are in my prayers.
Robert