What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

That’s what I’ve asked myself.

Days after tornadoes and unrelenting rain and hail left their unmistakable marks of damage, debris, and death in Oklahoma.

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

In all honesty, the media and its frenzied thirst for sensationalism and drama numbed me out. Too much to process. Too many assumptions and “facts” that would later be changed. The numbers of deaths and damages raised and lowered, raised and lowered.

The souls. The children. The wounded. The desperate. The miracles. And devastation.

What do you do?

And then I saw something beautiful. Glimmers. Tangibles of something beyond this human frailty.

An outpouring of love. Of resources. Of undeniable hope in the face of overwhelming odds.

This is what is unfolding.

Out of the debris, we rise. Our faith shaken but not forsaken. Our hearts broken but not annihilated.

And the Church. What of the Church?

This cynic has had her cynicism skewered, punctured, and thrown aside.

Humbled in watching and experiencing the Church come together. Meeting needs. Searching out how to best be utilized. And doing exactly that. Large and small. All denominations. People from all over the state, the country, and the world coming to Oklahoma. Serving. Giving. Weeping with the grief-stricken. Sitting in the ruins alongside those who have lost homes. Celebrating over lives saved. Rejoicing in and over each act of love.

The focus is on need. And love. And rising each day. Rising to meet, to reach, to be alongside one another.

There is beauty in ashes. There is Jesus. In each outstretched hand. There is Jesus in each action. I see disbelief in the eyes of those unable to believe that help is here: Feeding, clothing, combing through the debris and rubble, cleaning and restoring. And that this very help will continue to pour in.

Love skinned in flesh. Love covered in dirt and grime, sweat and tears.

Each day we rise. Each day Jesus walks with us and in the midst of all the damage. Jesus is here.

In the weeks and months and years to come, let us remember.

Let us remember that when we don’t know what to do? We love as love does.

We crawl in to each other’s heartache and cry and sit and be. Sit beside others in strength. In gentleness.

We are called. Called to action. Not just today, but in every moment of this.

We are called. Called to remember.

We are called. Called to sacrifice. Meeting each and every need without hesitation today. Tomorrow. And the next and the next.

Give ruthlessly.

Give unabashedly.

And look and listen.

Your neighbor, your friend, your family, your community need you with them.

Meet with them. Look them in the eyes. See the depths. The joy. The pain. The loss. Listen to their story.

We are called to come alongside one another.

And this is where I find my Jesus. Right here. Holding and stretching and reaching. Unwavering in his unfathomable commitment to us.

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

Be love.

Because that is what love does.

 

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6 comments

  1. Blessed by your thoughts and writing skill. Awesome! I will share it with my new
    friends, Jenna and Karen, here with the Four Square Chaplin tornado relief team. They will be blessed. Love, Just Mom

  2. Dare I use the overused word “awesome” again? I am preaching on Romans 5:1-5, focusing on hope. I hope it is okay if I use a portion of your thoughts — I think you may be on a road trip at present. Wonderfully written. Thank you. Not just for the assumed permission, but for the inspiration. KK

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