In your dreams you saw water and death. In your days you saw darkness and evil. How far we have come from the gates of paradise, spewing a wretched trail in the wake, vomiting the rotten fruit of our first sin.
And yet how does this horror of water and blood manage to be our sole salvation? I run to the secret place and hide, resolving to cling to the dark mystery of grace.
On Malaysia flight 370
In a moment of horror I cannot say how, we plummeted through clouds on bright wings broken, cast into the deep into the lowest darkness.
The eyes of men searched to and fro, in days and nights of weariness, while I sank down to the heart of the earth to the black, cold soul of Sheol.
Out of the depths I cry to you to the eyes that see through dark or light, raise me up from the shadow of death on bright wings born from morning’s fire.
On the Oso mudslide
In matter of moments earth took them back, though it takes us all just much more slowly.
God formed man out of the dust and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.
The living search for bodies in the mud life in the dirt like a desperate spring
Son of man, can these bones live?
Sovereign Lord, breath giver, you alone know.