Today's a breezy day here in Virginia. Gray clouds scoot across the sky, parting to reveal blue sky or brilliant white thunderheads. Yesterday there were tornadoes on the other side of the mountains. They were spawned by the remnants of Katrina.
It amazes me that what destroyed much of the Gulf coast and what continues to wreak havoc on New Orleans has such a strong reach.
At the same time, I have a minor cut that runs from the base of my pointer finger across my palm to the outer edge of my hand. I got it two weeks ago playing on a rope swing at the river. Turns out the rope wasn't all rope, but also metal cable. The cut bled a little, but in general it wasn't as bad as a paper cut. I cleaned it out when we got home, and I even went and got my tetanus shot updated.
Before you think I'm putting my cut hand on the level of Katrina, I'm not.
Two weeks ago, I could peer some fractions of an inch into my sliced palm. Now roughly half the cut is healed back to where you really can't tell I was hurt. There's no scarring, and I'm amazed that our bodies can heal so well. We could never devise such a system ourselves without studying how the body heals, yet we have a God who cares enough about us that he's built our bodies to repair themselves.
Our brightest engineers can't stop up broken levees, and our most knowledgeable weather experts can celebrate only that they came within 15 miles of predicting where the hurricane's eye would strike.
The physical, emotional, and psychological wounds from Katrina won't heal so well as my hand. Those of us outside that part of the country can see the damage, but we don't understand the smells, and the helplessness of having nowhere to go for daily conveniences.
Meanwhile, we know that God created everything we know, and we know that it is He who permits storms such as Katrina that confound us in breadth, power, and destruction. That he is so powerful, yet so attentive to us, should actually be a comfort to us.
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge, my savior; you save me from violence. I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies. For the waves of death encompassed me, the torrents of destruction assailed me; the cords of Sheol entangled me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I called. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry came to his ears.Posted by JRC at August 31, 2005 04:57 PM | TrackBack