From a friend who was in the middle of the tragedy in Boston – and saw God was there

When something as horrific as the Boston Marathon bombing happens, it is so easy to ask, “God, where were you?”  In pain, we wonder if the existence of the tragedy meant He was absent.  And yet everything changes when you know He was there – and instead look for ways He was working.  You notice so many, many different things that you can truly give thanks for, even as you pray for those impacted by unspeakable pain.  Everything from the fact that the bomb went off after most people had already left the area (if it had been 30 minutes earlier, there would have been dozens of people killed), to the unusual number of medical people who were able to rush to the scene quickly (downtown Boston has an unusual concentration of hospitals and medical centers due to being a medical-research center), to the outpouring . 

As some of you know, Jeff and I got our grad degrees in Boston, and have spent the last few days touching base with people who live there, and asking, “are you okay?”  Today, we heard back from a friend of Jeff’s who was running the marathon that day.  And in his story, I see not only the big picture of how God was working, but Him being present in the smallest of details of individual lives that day.  I wanted to share his full email.

 Hey All.

 First, a deeply heartfelt thank you to all who have tried to reach me over the last 24 hrs with expressions of concern and love and relief. I hold you all dear. 

 Yesterday started as such a beautiful day. I had a great run and was on pace to finish at about the 4 hrs and 3 min mark, a good time for a man my age with conditions. It was with happy   heart that I turned onto Hereford to see my sister and Joey, a six year old in my life. Stopping to lift Joey over the fence and then running hand-in-hand up Hereford to Boylston and then along Boylston moved things into the euphoria zone. The crowds cheered and we laughed. It was fun.

 As we got to the Pru, the first explosion detonated. It was loud with lots of smoke. We slowed, not knowing if it was part of the finish line festivities. Then, within half a block of us, the second bomb detonated and people fell. I grabbed Joey to my chest and with the rest of a frightened, screaming throng ran back up Boylston. We were given shelter in a hotel lobby, and then made our way – slowly, in shock – to meet family and friends at Downtown Crossing. My Garmin, the watch that knows these things, shows I got to the 26.11 mile mark in 4:04. The one minute spent collecting Joey – and slowing my pace to accommodate his – saved me from the being in the center of the first blast zone, the one that did most of the awful, tragic damage to innocents. God Almighty.

 Today is a new day. I said as much on Facebook but want to repeat it here. Tomorrow has come. It’s already afternoon. I’m grateful to meet it. I’m blessed, methinks, to have another chance to smell the roses, especially the red ones. You all have been so very supportive and loving and kind to me through my days. It’s upon me to let you know it matters, it matters tons. It’s where life is. 

 My prayers – and I know yours, too – are with those who were not so fortunate yesterday. God be with them … and theirs.

Our friend, his sister and Joey could have been in the blast zone.  What a small thing, but such a life-changing thing, that they were not.  Is that chance?  Or is that just another small signal of a God who loves us and is working, even as He allows great pain that we cannot comprehend. 

 After a plane crash killed hundreds near La Guardia in the mid-1990’s, my pastor in New York, Tim Keller, told a mourning congregation that we must acknowledge that in a shadowed world, we will never understand “why” God allows certain things happen.   And yet … even in that sobering acknowledgement there is the hope of the world.  If we could understand it…. If we could understand the mind of God… He would not be the omniscient, omnipresent, all-powerful One in whom we can legitimately place all our trust.   If we could understand Him and why He allows certain things, he would be …. like us.

In the midst of trying to heal from tragedy, I’m glad our God isn’t like us.  I’m grateful to know that He was there, even while allowing evil people and the enemy of our souls to win a battle that day.  I’m grateful for the signs that – if we look – will show He cares about every little happening in our lives.   The “I want the answers” part of me wishes He were (in the words of C.S. Lewis) a “tame lion.”  But then He wouldn’t be God. 

 I’m glad for my friends email as one small reminder that He is.  And is moving.  He is there. Even when we don’t understand Him.