When Terror Strikes Close to Home

Today has been a surreal day to say the least…

What started off as a sleepless night thanks to my son’s incessant vomiting quickly morphed into stomach pain of a different sort on my end—that kind that leaves you in distanced denial at first, and then hovers loudly overhead in the form of police helicopters and SWAT vehicles a block from where I was earlier this evening.

I know someone who was working just blocks away from the twin towers on September 11th.  I can’t imagine the terror he went through as he was blasted by ash on his evacuation route out of the city.

Some friends of ours were in Paris recently at the same times as the attacks that happened there, and we wondered what their children must have thought as their Parisian vacation took a sudden turn.

Then today, when the news hit that a building in nearby San Bernardino was subjected to wanton violence, I must admit my first reaction was that shootings aren’t all that uncommon in San Bernardino.

Until I saw the news reports, of course, and realized that this was something far different.

I imagined the huddled workers on lockdown, scared that they might get visited next.  I received messages from friends telling me that they too were on lockdown.  My wife, cognizant that a friend of ours was working in the building next door to the shooting, exchanged messages with her, giving her updates and providing reassurance.

This all seemed surreal enough until news broke later that at the time of the shootings, I happened to be driving down the very street where some of the suspects lived.  Later, those helicopters I heard would be overhead at the time of a shootout right here in my hometown of Redlands; right at the very spot I had driven just hours before.

So what do we make of all this?  Even as I write this, I can hear the helicopters hovering over downtown. 

I make a point to not live a life where fear motivates my decisions, so when a friend who lives out of state invited me and some buddies to a downtown restaurant late this afternoon, I quickly jumped at the opportunity.  After all, he’s a great dude and I only get to see him about two times each year. 

As we were driving downtown, I noticed 3 or 4 black armored vehicles with police lights on.  I had never seen SWAT vehicles in person, and I must admit it was a bit unsettling to see them turn in to a parking lot less than two blocks from the restaurant.  I tried to point them out to my wife, but didn’t want to alarm my children, much less pique their curiosity and have to explain what was going on.

We had a great time at the restaurant, only to come out to eerily quiet streets and a helicopter hovering directly overhead.  Not the most common experience in our quiet little town.

Again, what do we make of this?  I mean, obviously there is evil in this world.  I don’t know that I have the knowledge to address why that evil exists, or why God allows such evil to happen.  All I know is that it is there, and I hear its evidence all around me every day; today just happens to be one of those days when the volume is turned up extra loud.

We’ve chosen to wait until the morning to tell our children what happened.  No need giving them nightmares by opening their eyes to these goings-on just yet.  The news will still be the same in the morning—better yet, they may have more information, apprehended the suspects, and give us reason to let our kids know that although some really bad stuff happened yesterday, today is a different day and it’s all going to be better.

And maybe that’s where I land personally on all of this. 

Yes, my doors are locked right now, and if I’m honest, I am afraid.

My prayers are with the families of those who lost their lives senselessly and unexpectedly today, and my thoughts have wandered toward my own family and the utter tragedy it would be if something were to happen to one of us.  And it terrifies me.

I am creeped out that an act of terror happened only a few miles away, and that the repercussions are being felt just blocks away from my home—and there truly are no words that can be said right now to provide comfort to those families that are suffering.

There are no good words I can say, but we can show love and goodness in the midst of this horror.  My friend summed up this response tonight when he sent me the following message:

“We need to do something special for this Inland Regional Center”

That, my friends, is what I shall choose to focus on in this moment.  Rather than worry about the things outside of my control, I choose to focus on what is in my control.

As Bono once said years ago, “I can’t change the world, but I can change the world in me,” I will focus on what I can do to help. 

Maybe it’s prayers, maybe it’s flowers, maybe it’s fundraising or collecting goodies for Christmas gifts for the workers in that building; I don’t know yet, but I know it’ll be something.

Because the truth is, evil exists.  Deep, dark evil that simply has no place among humanity.  I hate it with a fierce passion, but I think evil gets the last laugh when we allow that evil to take us out of the game, to debilitate us.

I think evil laughs its wicked laugh when we lock our doors, our lives, and our hearts and stay holed up on the inside, failing to offer our strengths to a world so desperately in need of them.

I choose to thumb my nose at evil, and use these ashes in my hometown to plant seeds—seeds of goodness that will one day grow into a verdant valley—showing the world that a little bit of goodwill can indeed reap a bountiful harvest.

And that’s my prayer for all of us.  Don’t let fear cripple the goodness that wants to come out of your heart; don’t let evil get the last laugh. 

For light shines brightest in the dark places, and today, we need more of that light than ever before…