Marathon Monday

It’s hard to forget where you were in moments of tragedy.

Last Monday, when I heard about the news of the Boston Marathon, I was in a Peruvian taxi cab headed back to my apartment. I had just finished speaking at the first Perspectives intensive in South America.

Perspectives is a global movement that mobilizes the hope of Jesus to every nation on the Earth. During the 10-day conference, we were inspired as we studied God’s global activities throughout history and in current times. The facts are staggering. You can imagine the swing of emotions as I checked my Twitter account and remembered the terroristic evil that pervades every corner of our world, including Boston. Without fail, the question that enters every one of our minds is “Why?” How are we to make sense of massacres that seek and destroy innocent lives?

Is it possible we are asking the wrong question?

Questions are powerful.

Any decent lawyer can teach you about “leading the witness” and the power of questions. When we start with the wrong questions, we discover the wrong answers.

In moments such as the one in Boston, “making sense” fails us in epic fashion. It is like attempting to fit a puzzle piece into the wrong part of the puzzle or like trying to shoot a machine gun round with a .22 pistol. We try to fit heart issues into our logic mechanisms. It doesn’t work.

In times like these, making sense falls infinitely short of the comfort we are craving.

Isn’t it true, when we are hurting, even right answers somehow seem wrong? In times like these, making sense is such a puny goal.

Ask any parent who has lost a son or daughter, and they will tell you sense and logic fail us miserably when their hearts are breaking.

Evil does not and will never make sense. Evil is senseless. That is why we call what happened Monday a “senseless” tragedy.

We must not mistake this fact. Evil is a perversion of good, and that perversion throughout history has proven costly. This is why my hope is in the Cross of Jesus Christ. The cross was not a place of logic or sense. It doesn’t introduce a clean religion with pretty answers. The cross was a costly place of tragedy and death. An execution of an innocent man. The cross is God’s answer to those hurting from tragedy. The cross is a story grieving mothers and hurting fathers can relate with.

At the cross, you will find friends in pain and soldiers in agony. The cross is our story. With wisdom that belongs only to him, an execution was God’s response to evil.

In his blog earlier this week, John Piper wrote a powerful thought: “At the darkest moments of our lives, we can have strength and hope in you because, at the darkest moment in history, you guaranteed the end of the violence and perversion that fills our news now. As we ask you how you could allow nails to take an 8-year-old boy’s life, remind us that you looked on in infinite love for us as nails pierced your precious Son. It was at his cross that you defeated the devil’s hold on this world, ransoming your children from our own wickedness and promising the eradication of all evil. All injustice will be punished, either in Jesus’ wounds or by his sword. You walked with your Son to Calvary’s hill. You stood beside the bloody table in West Philadelphia. You watched the fatal finish line in Boston. And your love and justice will prevail in every place.”

In moments like Monday, when it’s tempting to try and make sense of it all, we must lean into the leadership of our loving Savior. In the cross alone, we will find answers that satisfy and bring hope. A fresh comfort will come from knowing that the cross was not the end of the story. Like the cross, tragedy is never the end of the story. Jesus said: “In this world, you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” We, too, shall overcome the evil of this world. Take heart!

JOSH FOLIART WAS A TWO YEAR LETTERMAN FOR THE ARKANSAS RAZORBACK FOOTBALL TEAM. HE CURRENTLY LEADS A CHURCH PLANTING INITIATIVE BASED IN LIMA, PERU, CALLED MULTIPLI: CULTURES OF LIGHT AND LIFE. VISIT HIS WEBSITE JOSHFOLIART.COM.