"Through the storm, through the night"

A great cartoon from the New Yorker 

Yesterday, I was sitting in Denton Square Donuts, a little shop in “downtown” Denton. I love going there because not only are the donuts irresistible, but the quirky, laid-back vibe makes me feel like I am back in Austin. Their motto is “come for the donuts, stay for the culture.” All this to say that yesterday I found myself at a table there listening to a local artist and waiting for my friend to get his donut. The table I was sitting at was covered with an assortment of old hymns that made up the tabletop. I was looking at the hymns when my eye caught this one:

 

Precious Lord

“Precious Lord, take my hand

            Lead me on, let me stand

            I'm tired, I’m weak, I’m lone

            Through the storm, through the night

            Lead me on to the light

            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

            When my way grows drear precious Lord linger near

            When my life is almost gone

            Hear my cry, hear my call

            Hold my hand lest I fall

            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

            When the darkness appears and the night draws near

            And the day is past and gone

            At the river I stand

            Guide my feet, hold my hand

            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

            Precious Lord, take my hand

            Lead me on, let me stand

            I'm tired, I’m weak, Lord I’m worn

            Through the storm, through the night

            Lead me on to the light

            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home”

I remembered hearing that hymn before, I just couldn’t place it. Then I remembered a memorial I attended eight years ago for one of my sister’s classmates, who died unexpectedly of heart complications while on a band trip. One of the band directors tearfully sang that hymn during the service. It was one of the most beautiful, haunting things I have ever heard. Just thinking about it gives me chills. I remember crying through the whole service. I had never met the boy who died, but I couldn’t help thinking how unfair it was that someone who sounded so full of life had to die at the age of sixteen. It was like he had been cheated.

This week has been a whirlwind of news, and in the flurry of it all, I couldn’t help but feel that the victims had been cheated. They were not supposed to die yet; they were supposed to celebrate running a marathon in Boston, or sleep soundly in their homes in West. I think of their families, how they had no way of preparing for such a tragedy, and I grieve for them. My only consolation is resting in the knowledge that we serve a just God. Hebrews 6:19 says:

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”

This week, “through the storm, through the night,” God took some of his people home. Amidst the destruction and the chaos, he was an anchor, steadfast and in control. Jesus defeated death so that we don’t have to fear when evil shows itself. We can rest in the understanding that we are not bound to our earthly bodies, but that our souls serve an all-powerful God. We can pray earnestly that God would reveal himself in the midst of the tragedy and grief.