I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT.
I was still dealing with pushback from yesterday morning’s blog post titled, “Where is God when bullets fly?” and then up pops the news flash:
Bomber strikes Boston Marathon.
A childhood friend of mine was hoping to run in that race.
I went to his Facebook page to look for a post. Nothing. I don’t have his phone number. So I emailed him. Still waiting.
As I watched the video, I thought about what I had said in that day’s blog.
I said that God is at work through us, trying to stop bullets.
I’ve been wrong lots of times in my life.
Not this time.
Watch closely the video of the Boston Marathon bombing.
Once the shock wave passes, yet while the smoke is still roaring, brave souls charge into the blast zone.
They rush over the fence.
They rip it down.
They pull it out of their way.
They’re frantically clawing toward the fallen.
That’s what I would expect God to do.
I went to the internet and Googled the bombing. I saw pictures that no American television station would broadcast.
A young man in a wheelchair, holding onto what remained of his legs as rescuers rushed him away. He had no legs below the knees. I could see bones and tendons hanging from his left knee down to about where his ankle would have been.
My wife is a nurse.
I called her into my office to watch the pictures with me.
She said that over and over.
“She’s dead!” my wife said as she stared into a picture of a rescuer checking the carotid artery for a pulse.
“How do you know?”
“Look at the eyes. And the lips are white.”
Where is God?
I saw him.
He looked to be a teenage girl, carrying a woman on his back.
Then he was an Asian lady in a red baseball cap, pushing the guy with no legs.
Or maybe God was the guy in the beard and cowboy hat running alongside, holding the tourniquet. Or, who knows, maybe the other bearded guy in shades, holding the artery on the other leg.
He could have been the Boston cop, with both hands cupped around his mouth, barking out rescue orders.
I wonder. Could he have been the grown man crying on the shoulder of a terrified woman?
Perhaps God hadn’t lost it. Maybe he was the lady physician in the ponytail trying to calm a man as she held his right leg in a splint while someone else pushed him in a wheelchair. I couldn’t see the man’s eyes because his face was shredded and swollen, and splattered in blood.
Maybe God was the guy in the green, padded suit, looking for an unexploded bomb.
OK. I can’t be absolutely sure who God was.
But I’m pretty sure he was there.
“In a little while the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you will live, too. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and that you are in me and I am in you” (John 14:19-20, New Century Version).