“We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. So we don’t look to the things we see with the naked eye, but to the things seen by the eye of faith. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Cor.4:16-18
Lord Jesus, some anniversaries we wish we could forget—but can’t and shouldn’t. Two years ago today, March 27 2023, evil’s hatred of you, and all you cherish, was on full display in Nashville, Tennessee. Break in, gunfire, terror—the unimaginable became unforgettable. “Surely, not there,” became, “Right here, right now.” Precious children and dear friends died.
Trauma continues like the ebb and flow of the ocean—sending predictable and unpredictable waves of grief, fear, and vulnerability. Healing also continues by your hand and heart. But until the Day of wiped tears and all things new, it will hurt. It’s supposed to hurt.
We are learning that healing isn’t the absence of pain, it’s the firstfruits of hope. Healing isn’t getting over but growing through things we wish never happened. Healing isn’t hurting less, but loving more—growing hearts of empathy, compassion, and unhurried kindness for other sufferers. Help us, free us, Jesus.
You are coming back—the Day we long for more than ever. Until then, you are with us and for us—thank you, Jesus. And (Hallelujah), that means we live by a calendar of grace not chance. Evil doesn’t get the last word, you do. Until you speak that word and fill the earth with your glory, continue to humble and gentle us, Jesus, and fill us with bold hope and your transforming kindness. So Very Amen.
