Even So...

Yesterday a monster tornado devastated the town of Moore, Oklahoma.

We aren't strangers to tornadoes in this part of the country. In fact, I shared with you a few thoughts about the Joplin tornado just after it happened. It is incredible to think that 2 years have passed.

My heart is breaking for Moore. I've seen first hand the complete devastation of what lies behind one of these storms. But. I've also seen the resilience that comes when some are faced with adversity and often, their worst nightmares.

 Not a week after the Joplin tornado we headed west on I-44 towards Joplin. Sharing the road with us were folks. Not just the traveling kind of folks, but the helping kind of folks. Pick-ups with shovels, wheelbarrows and jugs of water. Church vans. Business trucks heading that way to do their part. It was wall to wall traffic of folks just going to help out.

While my heart is heavy, I am also encouraged to know that once again pick-ups and church vans will be pointing their way towards Moore.

One of our favorite organizations, Convoy of Hope, is on the scene now. They have an easy way to help if you can't pick up your chain saw and go.

Also, consider this. After all the news crews go away and the national spotlight has drifted away there will be families who forever will be affected by this tragedy.  Whenever I am burdened and in a low place I like to recall the words to this beautiful hymn written by  Horatio G. Spafford, in 1873. He wrote the words aboard a ship while crossing at the very place all 4 of his daughters were lost at sea. (This story has always touched me. You can read additional information about Horatio Spafford here.)

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul

It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul


Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed His own blood for my soul


My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part, but the whole
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul


And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend
Even so, it is well with my soul