If you spend a good deal of time online, I'm sure you've seen a couple heart-melting videos. A young child of a refugee family is rescued at sea, still breathing. Safe. A toddler is dug out from the debris of a recent earthquake. Barely bruised. A man climbs four stories to save a hanging baby. Both make it to safety.
As a parent of two young boys, these stories kick me in the chest and liquefy my eyes. It can't be helped. Surely, these stories are evidence that God cares and has his protective hand over the little children, right?
"Alligator Drags 2-Year-Old Boy Into Water Near Disney Resort"
This is the headline that appeared on my Flipboard news feed as I flipped through articles to entertain myself during breakfast about two years ago. I clicked the link and held my breath as I read about the family relaxing on the beach on movie night, while their kids waded in the water nearby. I choked back tears as I related with the father, who tried desperately to wrestle his son back from the slippery beast. I prayed—Oh, how I prayed—for the family. I prayed for some miraculous recovery. That maybe the gator was spooked into dropping the boy and they would find him still alive somewhere wandering around the lagoon.
That entire day was a little off for me. I couldn't stop thinking about that poor boy. About how that could have been us, if we had taken our boys to Orlando. About what it would be like for Ethan—who was right around that boys age—if he was snatched by a gator. And I continued to pray.
The next morning, I searched eagerly for some happy update to the story, but that's not what I received. Instead, I learned that they had found the boy's body, submerged in the water, about 15 feet from where he had been taken. He was dead. That mother would always beat herself for not keeping a closer eye on her kids. That father would always have to live with the guilt and nightmares of not being able to save his own son. Their older daughter would never again see Disney World as the happiest place on Earth.
And that poor boys last thoughts... unable to understand the horrors that had taken him. A moment before, he was playing in the water watching a movie. The next, searing pain. "Where is Daddy? It's dark! Why does it hurt to breathe?" Not even old enough to take comfort in the thought that a loving god might be waiting for him on the other side.
I wept with these thoughts. Of course, the bible is far too vague to offer a single comforting thought on whether God would even receive him on the other side. We are all born into sin, after all. Jesus was supposed to be the ONLY way.
My wife, Meredith, and I, holding an alligator jokingly named "Fluffy" when we visited Orlando, Florida just a few years prior. I don't think I would have smiled then, if I understood precisely what these creatures were capable of.
I've not been able to look at a gator the same way since. In fact, I've never been able to look at the rest of the world the same way, either. It was no longer a place where God took care of his own. It was a dark and cruel world, where terrible things could happen at any moment, whether you were a child, an innocent bystander, a believer, or even whether or not you prayed.
Suddenly, no one was safe from random chance, with God or without.
I think this was the start of the downhill spiral that brought me out of what I can almost describe as a life-long slumber, but there's still so many more reasons not to believe, which I'll continue to delve into, next week. Feel free to hit subscribe up above, or follow me on Facebook if you'd like to hear more. Otherwise, let me know how you feel in the comments below.
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That entire day was a little off for me. I couldn't stop thinking about that poor boy. About how that could have been us, if we had taken our boys to Orlando. About what it would be like for Ethan—who was right around that boys age—if he was snatched by a gator. And I continued to pray.
The next morning, I searched eagerly for some happy update to the story, but that's not what I received. Instead, I learned that they had found the boy's body, submerged in the water, about 15 feet from where he had been taken. He was dead. That mother would always beat herself for not keeping a closer eye on her kids. That father would always have to live with the guilt and nightmares of not being able to save his own son. Their older daughter would never again see Disney World as the happiest place on Earth.
And that poor boys last thoughts... unable to understand the horrors that had taken him. A moment before, he was playing in the water watching a movie. The next, searing pain. "Where is Daddy? It's dark! Why does it hurt to breathe?" Not even old enough to take comfort in the thought that a loving god might be waiting for him on the other side.
I wept with these thoughts. Of course, the bible is far too vague to offer a single comforting thought on whether God would even receive him on the other side. We are all born into sin, after all. Jesus was supposed to be the ONLY way.
I've not been able to look at a gator the same way since. In fact, I've never been able to look at the rest of the world the same way, either. It was no longer a place where God took care of his own. It was a dark and cruel world, where terrible things could happen at any moment, whether you were a child, an innocent bystander, a believer, or even whether or not you prayed.
Suddenly, no one was safe from random chance, with God or without.
I think this was the start of the downhill spiral that brought me out of what I can almost describe as a life-long slumber, but there's still so many more reasons not to believe, which I'll continue to delve into, next week. Feel free to hit subscribe up above, or follow me on Facebook if you'd like to hear more. Otherwise, let me know how you feel in the comments below.
Previous | First | Next
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