Responding to Disaster with Love and Compassion

My eldest daughter has always been smaller than her peers. In fact, when she was little she was sometimes scared that she would blow away in the wind.  I assured her this was not going to happen.  “You will be just fine,” I would tell her, “people don’t blow away in the wind.”  Then I would pause because I knew that I was telling a half-truth.  While I didn’t want my young daughter to be too scared to walk in the wind, I also knew that one day she would see the horrifying images of the destruction of a tornado.  She would know that not only can people be blown away in the wind, but they can be killed by the wind; and houses, cars and much more can be blown away. 

When I first heard of the devastating tornado in Moore, Oklahoma, the first broadcast reported a group of third graders was still missing and my stomach dropped.  These missing children were the same age as my daughter.  I could be one of these parents: waiting, hoping and praying.  Of course any one of us could have been someone in this story.  We could have been one of the people who lost their homes, whose neighborhood was destroyed, or even who died. 

Tornados don’t discriminate; they blow into our world and turn us upside down.  It doesn’t matter if we live in the city or the country, if we are married or single, or with children, it doesn’t matter what kind of profession we have, if we are a good person or not.  They remind us of our vulnerability, but more than anything they remind us of the sacredness of life and community.

As horrible as the images have been of the neighborhood and schools torn apart by the tornado, the images of the rescue workers dressed in yellow working into the night by spotlight are even more engrained in my mind.  The stories and images of the rescue workers and teachers make me cry, not only tears of sorrow for all that has been lost, but tears of hope and thanksgiving for the love and compassion shown.

One of my favorite bible stories is the story of Elijah in his search for God.  Elijah climbs a high mountain and waits for God to arrive.  He looks down at the world below him and sees straight-line winds breaking rocks into pieces, and he realizes God isn’t there. He witnesses an earthquake and knows that God isn’t there. He sees a fire and still God is not there.  Elijah realizes that God is not a part of any of these horrible natural tragedies.  Instead, God finally comes to Elijah in a still, small voice, and God’s voice reminds Elijah that he is not alone.  Over the past week, I am sure many people have been searching for God in the midst of this tornado. But God was not in the winds or fire; instead, I believe that God is very present in Moore, Oklahoma, right now.  God is present in the voices of the rescuers who have called out to men, women and children, assuring them, “we are looking for you; you are not alone; you will be okay.” 

It is so hard to hear of this tragedy and even harder to feel as if there is nothing I can do.  These people are in need.  They need people to help: to search alongside of them, to rebuild homes, and to listen to their stories.  Right now, I know that there are enough people down in Oklahoma doing terrific things.  I also know one of the best ways that we can help today is by giving money to help fund the various recovery efforts.  As a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, I am always proud to recommend giving through Lutheran Disaster Response (LDR).  Lutheran Disaster Response is known for being one of the first organizations into places of crisis and disaster and one of the last organizations to leave.  They are making a promise that 100% of the money given in response to the Severe Spring Storms will be used entirely for the relief effort.

Click on the link below to give through the ELCA.  

https://community.elca.org/page.aspx?pid=521 

Blessings, 

Pastor Joanna Mitchell

Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church in Edina