Debbie’s in the House
I am sitting on the couch with clothes folded and stacked all around me, on the tables, the floor, in baskets, on the ottoman. There is not a dirty piece of fabric in this house — except for what I’m wearing, and these, my friends, are some dirty digs.
This is how I’m wrestling:
This guy, John Mark McMillan, lost his best friend, Stephen, in a car accident, and I think that his name is so appropriate. Stephen, in the Bible, as he was stoned to death for Jesus’ name, he cried out to God. John Mark’s bff had prayed the morning of his death that he would gladly give his life if the youth of this nation would turn to God. And that night he was gone.
Not to point out the name correlation, but Steven Curtis Chapman’s teenage son just accidentally ran over his youngest sister, and she died in the hospital a short time after.
I am blank.
There are the stories we know of Africa. There are the starving babies in Ethiopia. Right Now. They are hungry.
Towels stack perfectly folded in a pile up to my knees.
The question of evil. It is never cliche. If God is All Good… If God is All Powerful…
There is this song I can’t stop singing. You’ve got to listen to it.
On the recording we have of it, John Mark McMillan cried in the middle of the song. He wrote it the day after Stephen died. This video leaves out a few things at the end. It’s hard to understand, but I think I get it.
It’s easy to hear that God is cruel.
But Stephen up there, if he could speak, he would strongly disagree.
He loves us. Oh, how He loves us. Oh, how He loves us.
One day we will see it.
Pray for the Chapman family.