An older pastor once told me that at Christmas, the Christian and secular cultures sync to embrace the joy of the season. But I have also learned another factor has power to bring these communities together and even open gospel doors—tragedy.
Soon after we heard about the horrific accident in Chatham that claimed four young lives and critically injured several others, our family minister and I planned visits to the students in our church who live in the school district. And we immediately thought of Alex.
Alex was the 12-year-old member of our youth group who passed away unexpectedly last December. Many in my church, my family, and the community where Alex’s school is located still feel his loss intensely. My mind instinctively went to the common questions: Why did this happen? Why do tragedies involving children keep happening? And, what does a pastor say in this situation?
As we drove from one meeting to another, I recounted to Andy the string of deaths involving young people in our area over the past year. After the visits, the tears, and the prayers, we remarked how hard it is for adults to process the death of children—much less how hard it is for children to process the deaths of their peers. We saw the pain in Wes’s eyes as he discussed his senior classmate, Rylee, who died in the accident.
When we ask “why?” answers rarely come. But when we ask “what now?” God will eventually show us. As local churches seek to minister in times of communal tragedy, particular questions come into focus:
How can we step closer towards hurting people asking hard questions?
How can we bring the good news of the crucified and risen Jesus to bear on a grieving community?
How can we sync with the culture and partner with God to somehow redeem something positive out of a situation so terrible?
I have seen first-hand in the lives of my own children how God redeems heartache. My seventh-grade son spent all day playing at our house with Alex just weeks before he died. They named their text thread, in classic middle-school boy fashion, “the skibidi sigmas.” Alex’s death hit home and hit hard.
My son was seeking someone who cared about Alex like he did. Another boy in the youth group was a casual friend of both boys. In their shared experienced, God began transforming their casual friendship into a faith-centered one. They sat together at the funeral and cried together. They both got bracelets that show Scripture verses when tapped to their phone. They sit together in church now. They minister to one another. God took something terrible and is actively redeeming it for good.
My youngest son reminded me that everyone grieves in his own way and at his own pace.
Shortly after Alex’s passing, my seven-year-old was allowed to bring an item for “show and tell” to his first-grade class. He chose to bring the bracelet we got for him at the funeral. His teacher sent an email telling us how emotional the moment was for him and for her, a woman who had lost her own husband very suddenly. They both cried.
My own eyes filled with tears as I imagined hearing his quivering voice. There, in the congregation of his classmates he eulogized, in his own way, the lost boy who played with his older brothers and jumped on his trampoline. And his release of emotion connected him to the larger grieving community.
So, I want to encourage my fellow pastors in Chatham, their churches, and any who may find themselves ministering among unthinkable circumstances to lean in. Draw near to those who are hurting. This posture models what God does. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the broken hearts and saves the crushed in spirit.”
Go to the vigils, open the doors of the church as need arises, be available to talk, seek to mingle the lives of your people with the people of the community. Teach with your actions that God does not withdraw from us when our broken world wounds, but instead he draws even nearer. We can trust God to be who he says he is, and to do what he says he will do.
Josh Parsons is pastor of Western Oaks Baptist Church in Springfield, Illinois.