Faithful Living: Turn to God in times of trouble

Published 9:00 am Saturday, September 10, 2005

I cannot possibly understand the vast desolation, the horror, the loss, the worry. The TV screens in my home are modest in size. They provide only small glimpses into the hundreds of square miles and thousands of families whose lives have been dismantled by Hurricane Katrina. Barring a personal experience, I will never know what it is like to have your safe evacuation thwarted by rotting plants, dead neighbors, bedroom doors, live electric wires, water toxified by human excrement, unseen plumbing, glass, oil, and air clouded by smoke. Such scenes are sanitized when viewed from a distance. Absent too, is the heat and nearly intolerable humidity. Combined, both factors would surely put most of us Pacific Northwesterners out of commission without proper hydration.

The best I can do is gaze at my husband, children and pets. The sight of them soothes me until I consider those who have no idea where their loved ones are—many of the missing who are young children and infirmed adults. No identification. No shoes. No life-sustaining medications. When I see elderly holdouts endure days of horror because they will not leave their animal companions behind, I turn away.

During any given day I plan and dream. Organize and strategize. And this week I have wondered: How would I feel if I were rushed onto an airplane, hastily seated, then told on route where I was being sent to recover. Regroup. Rebuild. Talk about a loss of personal power.

I feel certain I would make good use of my cot once I arrived at my evacuation center. That is because I get sleepy when worried or overdone or when answers are not easy to come by. When life forces me to change I don’t kick and scream. I retreat and contemplate. Then I sleep as if I cannot get enough.

So I cannot really imagine it all with accuracy. I cannot know how so many of our fellow Americans feel. But I do know a few things that I would do if I were caught in such a desperate situation. I’d work through the bottled water and canned goods first. Then I would set into motion some purposeful steps to soothe my family’s mental and spiritual health. That’s because I am an organizer.

I’d begin by looking up into the heavens. I’d allow an occasional scream and some tears, all the while knowing that God can take it all. I’d grab nearby hands and we’d bow our heads. Over and over again, without ceasing we would send those prayers up. There would be so many prayers it would sound like a chorus and I know the Lord of the universe, our God of love, would smile.

I would also look into the pages of the Bible I grabbed on the run away from our former life. I’d read that God will never leave or forsake us and His Word is a light unto our paths. I’d turn to the Psalms and read about all the anguish and frustration and anger penned by those that came long before us. I’d claim their words as our own, then speak them back to God. I’d ask Him to make His Bible my sword and armor, for whatever might come our way as we began the rebuilding process.

I’d look inward to inventory my feelings, ideas and plans. I’d pay attention to the realities of my feelings and accept them, knowing both the good and bad feelings will come and go like the tides.

I would remind myself that I should be realistic. Some things will change and others will not. That includes people—their histories, their personalities, their ways.

I’d seek truth in all the talk that would swirl around us. I’d be systematic and careful about whom I trusted for information. If advice circumvented God’s ways, I would let it go.

I’d head for laughter, for it is healing. This can be found in people, books, music, and always children.

I’d aim for balance. I’d probably succumb to my natural reaction to sleep, but then I’d put myself on a schedule as much as possible. This includes eating regularly. Our physical selves deserve increased attention, especially during times of trauma.

I’d seek comfort from those optimistic souls around me. And for every time I was encouraged by someone, I’d pass some encouragement on to someone else in need. That’s how comfort works. It grows in you when you give it away.

I’d be on the lookout for hope. It comes in many forms, especially notable in those people who discipline themselves to praise God in the midst of trauma. They speak it and their faithfulness to choose hope even when filled with pain is rewarded.

Then I’d look for God’s purpose. I’d seek spiritual significance in the most insignificant. I’d press toward God, awaiting His lessons and anticipating renewed faith.