My Why: From Closing Out to Seeking Out God in Tragedy

Yesterday morning, I awoke to news alerts about bombings of churches and hotels in Sri Lanka on Easter Sunday. It is heartbreaking to think about all the people who were killed, simply for choosing to worship their risen Lord or getting away to spend time with family.

These acts of violence hit close to home and remind me of a different Easter season story that happened in the church where I grew up.

When I was 12 years old, I had a close friend whose parents were going through a messy, ugly divorce. On Palm Sunday, she came into Sunday School excited that her dad was coming to church and she’d get to see him. We were talking about this while I was teaching her how to play “Heart and Soul” on the piano that morning.

I was in the children’s choir during church that day. I remember looking out across the congregation and smiling when I saw Joanne snuggled with her dad in the pew, and I was grateful when I saw them come up to the altar together for Communion.

Not long after we got home from church that day, I was sitting on the floor, watching TV when I heard my mom on the phone. I could tell she was hearing some surprising bad news based on her reaction. After she hung up, she came into the living room and sat down with me to share what she had just heard.

My mom told me something terrible happened at church after we left that morning. Joanne and her sister, Donna, were getting ready to go home with their dad after church. After Joanne was in the back seat of his car, her dad took a gun out of the trunk of his car and shot her through the back window. Then, he also shot Donna and her mom in the parking lot. Joanne and her mom were dead, and Donna was in critical condition. We heard later that day that Donna had also died.

I don’t recall having much of a reaction in the moment. Of course, I was sad, but I think the shock and disbelief that something so terrible could happen to one of my friends…at the hands of her dad…at our church of all places…on Palm Sunday…

It was just too much.

The weeks and months that followed were rough. The media had a feeding frenzy on our small, suburban church (here is a link to the original AP release…despite all of the interviews, they still got details of the story wrong). I remember trying to get back to normal with the church activities that Joanne and I used to enjoy together while experiencing the painful reminder of her absence each time I was there.

The church hired a team of child psychologists to talk to the Sunday School classes and help us process the loss. My friends and I viewed them as invaders from the outside (not unlike the media that kept calling the church). As a result, we refused to talk to them.

Really, I never talked to anyone. This tragedy planted some very subtle questions in my 12-year-old subconscious. I don’t remember being fully aware of thinking any of these things at the time, but those seeds grew and manifested themselves in my faith and my attitudes about God’s church as I launched into adolescence.

Why would God let such a terrible thing happen to innocent children in His church? He could have stopped it, but He didn’t.

I sat there and watched Joanne’s dad take Communion with her. Obviously, that didn’t mean anything.

And all this happened on Palm Sunday, right after we were all walking around the church with our palm fronds singing Hosanna to Jesus. That ritual was just that…a ritual. It meant nothing just an hour later.

I still thought of myself as a Christian, but I started to put God on a shelf. He was something to be admired from afar, dusted off when I really needed Him, but not relevant or involved in my day-to-day life.

I transitioned from a depressed tween to a rebellious teenager to a wild 20-something. I had lots of fun and some great stories to laugh about, but I left no stone unturned trying to find meaning and purpose in my life.

I thought if I found the right boyfriend, that would fix everything.

But it didn’t. Oh….it definitely didn’t.

I thought I was feeling hollow and lonely because I didn’t spend enough time around friends. So, I found more friends, and I partied more.

The friends, at least the good ones, helped for a while, but I still had those quiet moments when I just wanted to scream to fill the void inside me. The partying was a short-term solution at best. More often, it made things worse.

I met Honyay when both of us were scraping along with bad choices. Truly, if either one of us were in a good place, we never would have gotten together. We called ourselves Christians but were both living far from Christ. Our moms didn’t know each other, but I’m sure they were equally exhausted from praying over their wayward kids at that point in our lives.

I kept feeling the tug of the Holy Spirit, trying to bring me back to Jesus, but I was so stubborn. Jesus was definitely not a part of my daily life because I wasn’t inviting Him to be. I knew I needed something, but my questions and decisions I had made about the church so many years earlier were blocking my way.

Despite all my stubbornness, I would decide to go “church shopping” from time to time. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but it seemed like a good place to start. After a few years of failed attempts to find a church that felt like a good fit, I decided to Google a church that advertised on benches around town where I lived. I was intrigued by their mission…Connecting People to Christ. I decided to check it out.

When I went the first time, I was surprised to see the pastor wearing jeans, talking about things I had never really heard before.

“It’s not about religion, it’s about a relationship.”

“God wants to do something in you, so He can do something through you.”

“You have to put yourself in a place where God can bless you.”

“I think if Jesus were alive today, He would ride a Harley.” (okay…that last one was admittedly not biblical, but it certainly got a good laugh!)

I started to read my Bible and fell in love with the God of the Old Testament for how He kept forgiving those crazy Israelites for straying from Him over and over again. I could relate so very well.

And Jesus…not surprisingly, His disdain for the religious authority and hypocrisy of his day resonated with me. I was amazed at the love He had for everyone…for me…through his ministry on Earth, including his choice to die a criminal’s death to cover all of my sins.

I started to view my “bad choices” differently. I started seeing them as the sin they were, and I recognized the way they distanced me from God. I went from comparing myself to other broken people around me, thinking, “At least I’m not as screwed up as they are,” to comparing myself to the perfect example of Jesus.

I discovered that judging God by the example of people who called themselves Christians…without taking the time to get to know God directly…was even more closeminded than those “Christians” I had been judging.

I took ownership of my faith and committed to my beliefs because I tested them against God’s truth for myself instead of blindly accepting my parents’ faith as my own. I started to revisit some of the hard questions that had discouraged me after that Palm Sunday tragedy in 1985.

Why would God let such a terrible thing happen to innocent children in His church? He could have stopped it, but He didn’t.

Yes, He could have stopped it, but then we wouldn’t have the free will that lets us choose to have a relationship with Jesus.  God’s heart was even more broken than mine was that Palm Sunday.  The sin that has so badly broken us all is exactly why He pursued us by sacrificing his Son, Jesus.  That blood sacrifice gives us a path to reconnect to God and the power He used to bring Jesus back to life.  

I sat there and watched Joanne’s dad take Communion with her. Obviously, that didn’t mean anything.

I went back and revisited the news articles that had caused so much pain to our church at the time.  Clearly, my friend’s dad was very sick.  He had been through painful experiences that caused him to hurt a lot of people in his life, including his family.  Only God knows what was in Leon Moser’s heart that day as he took Communion with his daughter, but one man’s sick heart cannot undo the power of remembering the sacrifice Jesus made for all of our sins, even the ones committed an hour after that Palm Sunday service.  

And all this happened on Palm Sunday, right after we were all walking around the church with our palm fronds singing Hosanna to Jesus. That ritual was just that…a ritual.  It meant nothing just an hour later.

Hmm…so something else that I’ve learned is that there are too many real threats of corrupting God’s truth out there to get hung up on things like traditional music versus contemporary music or palm frond parades vs. raised hands during worship.  Regardless, God’s perfect love isn’t dependent on whether I like them and choose to participate in them or not.  

My favorite miracle about this softening of my heart for Jesus is that Honyay was on the same path at the same time. We both turned away from the sin that had initially made us settle for each others’ brokenness and grew closer together as we each took steps to grow closer to God.

I believe God chose to make beauty out of our ashes through our marriage and our family that we have committed to Him. He has been present with us and led us to and through big decisions like creating a blended family and foster care adoption. And, He has helped us know His presence and His heart through tragedies like discovering our 5-year-old daughter was molested by a trusted family friend.

I’ve experienced the difference between closing out God and seeking out God during a tragedy. When I seek God first, my faith is strengthened and I find purpose where I used to find hopelessness. My dear reader, here’s the thing…He is always there for you, just waiting, whether you are seeking Him or not. And when you open that door, the healing you’re seeking can really begin.

I believe God called me to share my stories to bring hope to those who are struggling with their current circumstances, no matter how discouraging and dark they may be. I pray that my journey may help to answer someone else’s unasked questions with Truth and bring the healing that can only be given by Jesus.