On Oklahoma

Editors note: I lived in Oklahoma for four years during college and I learned to regard tornadoes as something akin to mythical beasts. They existed, but they were always just far enough away to not be dangerous yet close enough to still be powerful. I had friends who would chase storms for fun and friends who would stay locked inside the bathroom until they heard the all clear. During my senior year, I watched from the balcony of my apartment as a tornado touched down just a few miles north.

Everybody has a tornado story in Oklahoma. But there was always one story that all the natives knew and spoke of in hushed, serious voices: The one that hit Moore in 1999. I remember one of my friends telling me that eight years later Moore was still recovering and that it still had years to go.

And now this. Yesterday, yet another major tornado touched down in Moore and followed much the same path as the one in 1999. 51 were killed including at least 20 children. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.

Today, as an act of communal lament, we're going to run a piece written by friend Ian who lives in Mustang a few miles west of Moore. After the piece, I'll include several links to places where you can donate/volunteer/give blood. This is what families do. They hurt together. They cry together. They help together. They build together.

Lord, hear our prayer.

by Ian McLoud

At times like this we want to try and make sense of what's happening. Well meaning people will say things like, “God will work through this disaster,” but to those who are living with through the horror of this, it just sounds like empty platitudes. Less well meaning people will find someone to blame whether that someone be God or the people of Oklahoma, or who knows. Blame follows pain. 

While it may be true that God will work through this disaster, that God is to blame or any number of caveats revealed after the fact, all of these responses are the wrong one. They’re wrong because they take away from the pain that is still happening, right now.

At times like this people need to grieve. They need to scream. They need to cry. Let them be angry with God. Let them scream at Him. Allow people to mourn. Allow people, to quote Dr. John Dorian, to “feel their feelings, Turk!” No one can explain why yesterday’s tornado happened. And what good would it do to try? 

During times of disaster, niceties are as useless to our sense of well-being as the carbon dioxide expelled from our mouth in the process. Nothing makes sense in a disaster. Nothing makes sense in a tragedy. 

In the wake of F4 tornadoes, the Boston marathon bombing, the Aurora shooting and countless other tragedies that happen on a daily basis, what can be said that will bring things back to normal? What words can be said to a family that has just lost their house that will make that loss okay or bring their house back from rubble? What words can be said to a grieving parent that will lessen the sting of knowing they will have to bury a child? Were Job’s friends truly of any comfort to him? Does the Psalmist find comfort in knowing that at some point, but not right now, God will take care of his enemies? Job wanted to make sense of his suffering right then and there. The Psalmist wanted immediate action taken against his enemies. Who can offer that to those affected by the tornado yesterday?

It’s human nature to want to do something. So offer an ear to listen. Offer a prayer, a hug, the comfort of your presence. Offer a laugh when it’s appropriate and a shoulder for crying when it’s not. We mean well when we say that God will make something good out of this mess. And maybe he will, but maybe isn’t right now. Right now it hurts. Right now we want to cry. Right now it’s not okay. And that’s okay.

If you would like to donate to disaster relief efforts in Oklahoma, you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation to the American Red Cross. You can also donate online or call 1-800-RED CROSS to donate by phone. If you know of any further or more specific relief efforts, please leave the information in the comments.

Ian is the Youth and Family Minister at the Lakehoma Church of Christ in Mustang, Oklahoma. You can follow him on Twitter @KindaScottish.

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Because It's Not My Tragedy

by Lyndsey Graves

I am suspicious of people who know what to think.

They knew the answers long before we asked the questions – Why?  How? – or else they aren’t thinking at all, at least not about anyone but themselves.

Even now, I wonder what I could possibly add to this conversation; especially since this post won’t go out until a few days after Boston, and you will wonder why OPT is harping on about this while everyone else has moved on.

Like everyone else I’ve talked to, I struggled at first, trying to feel sad, and then realized I can’t; I am only a little shocked, and afraid, and ashamed that I don’t pray more often for those who live their lives shocked and afraid every day in other regions of the world. And I’m angry. That’s the thing about terrorism, isn’t it? Disease and tragedy and disaster happen to people all the time, and someone chooses to add to the chaos. Now suddenly people can’t run a foot race on a minor holiday?

Yesterday also marked one month since the death of an 18-year-old whose family I am close to.

I know what I feel, but I don’t know what to think.

Predictably, now that I’m at a loss, the only thing springing up to fill the void is the post I was already intending to write. I was going to write about all the profound implications of this stupid phrase that’s been bouncing around long enough to be on its way out, and now I can’t decide if it’s glib or callous or flippant to say,

you only live once.

That’s all I’ve got. You live once; you spend some finite number of evenings with your family. You do your thing. You give and take. And then you’re done, and you didn’t see it coming.

Maybe the hardest part about other people’s tragedy, what’s so unnerving about the things you didn’t expect, is that there’s nothing tangible to do when all you want is to act, make, go, fight the evil you’ve encountered. Maybe that’s why people spout ignorant and pious and insensitive things on Facebook. I don’t know.

I never know what to think, but I’m learning what to do. I turn off all the news; I don’t need the details. I turn off the computer; I don’t need acquaintances’ opinions. I sit in silence for the victims and plead with God for mercy.

For a couple of days I’ll make bread or something, I’ll go outside in the rain, and for the love of God I’ll hold that much tighter to the people I’m with, because it will be following me around – you only live once. Try to do it on purpose. you only live once. And you’re not in control. you only live once. Sometimes it means you quit wasting time and get your shit together and help some people, or that you go to school like you always meant to. And sometimes, it means you throw your philosophical questions about hedonism to the wind and just enjoy some things before “too late” shows up.

For me, it always means I stop scrolling through the feed and my uncharitable interpretations of it. I stop imagining I have to know what to feel or think just because everyone else seems to. I start living, a little more here and a little more now, because I already have everything precious. And I look a little harder for resurrection where it’s happening, and cheer and cheer and work to help it on, because somehow in the midst of tragedy, I believe – look, I’ve seen it – people can and will live again, and they are the ones who’ll YOLO best.

Lyndsey lives and works in Syracuse, NY. She majored in theology at Lee University, which is like eating cake or listening to thunderstorms - too enjoyable to be called work. Also, no one will pay you to do it. You can follow her on Twitter @lyndseygraves and you can find more of her writing at her blog To Be Honest.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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This I Pray

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” - Martin Luther King Jr.

“Mankind must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.” - Martin Luther King Jr.

by Ben Howard

If you've been following the news at all for the last few months you'll be familiar with the Jerry Sandusky scandal at Penn State. There is no defense for the actions committed by Sandusky or for the coverup allegedly perpetrated by Penn State officials including head coach Joe Paterno. It is nothing less than a tragedy and it should be recognized as such.

It's only natural in circumstances like these to feel a profound sense of injustice. Even if the perpetrators are punished to the fullest extent of the law it will seem a hollow victory. The crimes in question are too horrific, the violation of trust too deep and too painful. The emotion of the crime and subsequent coverup overwhelms the limits of punitive justice and it isn't fair, it won't be.

In this search for an elusive justice and a sense of catharsis it becomes easier and easier to embrace hate and assign blame. In the Penn State scandal in particular there is no shortage of possible villains, yet in this hunt for retribution we, as a society, run the risk of dehumanizing those we condemn.

We hope to find peace in destruction. We hope to find release in revenge and retaliation. Maybe if one more person is held responsible, maybe if one more lawsuit is filed, maybe if one person serves time behind bars, it will somehow fill the void. I fear, however, that all they bring us is the emptiness that comes from trying to fill the hole of our injustice with the pain and sorrow of others.

I don't know what to say to the victims. I can't begin to understand the pain, isolation, confusion and frustration that comes with something as horrific as this. I can't say it'll all be better. It's senseless and brutal and wrong and I do not know what will make it better. I can only pray that with love and time redemption is possible in all things.

I pray the same thing for those responsible. I can't begin to understand the reasons for such actions, but to quote one of my favorite songs, “Not to undermine the consequence, but you are not what you do.” The divine spark still exists and God is a God of redemption and hope in the midst of the depths.

I pray for reconciliation and redemption, for love and the ability to heal, for peace and for hope.

Peace,

Ben

You can contact me on Twitter @BenHoward87, email me or just leave a comment.