The Rev. Dr. John Hatcher
Religion Columnist

We seem to become more theological in our thinking in times of crises. We're good at asking “why?” Why didn't God stop that plane from crashing? As one who has been called to think about God, I try to defend him in tragedy. I'm wrong. God doesn't need me to defend him. He's God!

In many instances, to ask “why” presupposes someone is there to answer. And he is. Right now, he is pouring out his great love to the families of the victims. You ask them in a couple of weeks about the great love of God and the great comfort of God and the great presence of God. And they will tell you.

But you ask, “Where was God early Sunday morning?” I've got a better one than that: where was he during the holocaust? I've got another one: where was he when Herod was massacring all boys under the age of two in the city of David nearly two thousand years ago? You could add to the list. Where was he when my loved one was murdered? Where was he when my daughter was killed by a drunk driver? Where was he? The intensity of our questions presupposes a significant depth to the purpose of life. People on board that plane were precious people, deeply loved and cherished. Yet, what do we know?

We know that God is light and in him there is no darkness. Tragedy is full of darkness.

We know that God is love and his love is kind. An airplane crash is no kind thing. We can only imagine the thoughts of passengers and crew as the plane nose-dived. Only imagine what John F. Kennedy Jr. was thinking as he piloted his plane into the Atlantic Ocean with wife and sister-in-law on board.

As much as we want to “fix” everything; insure that no plane will ever crash; make sure that no child ever will be killed in an automobile or stroller accident, it happens. We live in a dangerous world. The Wright Brothers invented a killer machine as well as Henry Ford. We live in an incompleted world. Hurricanes. Mud slides. Volcanoes. Floods. The “tragic” dwindling numbers of the spotted owl. Man's inhumanity to man. As the bumper sticker reminded us, “stuff happens.” So, when I stubbed my toe as a child, I cried, “Mama.” The answer somehow to my pain and suffering was a person, someone who loved me and could help me deal with the pain. Did Mama ever move back the hand of time so as to erase the stubbed toe? No. She simply took care of it as it was in all its ugliness.

Now, please don't think I think a stubbed toe is anything like an airplane disaster. But the answer may be alike. We cry out, “God help me!” Maybe we are not at the stage of asking why, but we want some comfort in our pain and suffering.

The miracle of God is that God shows up when life breaks down. Is it his fault that life and engines break down? No! No! No! Even when it's not his fault, he comes to the scene and does a totally new, redemptive, caring thing.

Sit back and watch. Watch God break through so much that the media must report it.

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