FIRST GLIMPSE: Heart of the Storm

“We have just confirmed a tornado touchdown in west Davidson County. I repeat, we have just confirmed a tornado on the ground near Nashville.”

These breathless words from an obviously rattled local meteorologist were the last I heard before the television screen and lights suddenly winked out. Power failure. I sat in darkness for a moment, listening to distant growls of thunder and watching the eerie silhouettes flickering on the curtains with each flash of lightning. Then, with a yawn, I left my storm-watching and carefully made my way to bed, content that, at least for the night, the storm had passed our home. As I drifted off to sleep, I breathed a prayer for those who might be affected.

I woke to a city in chaos.

The tornado that “touched” down in Nashville remained down for more than 50 miles, ripping a swath of utter destruction across the city and its eastern suburbs. And the tornado wasn’t alone. In all, 13 tornadoes converged in a historic outbreak, killing 26 people in four states, injuring more than 300, and leaving much of Middle Tennessee without power.

I watched the morning news in slack-jawed shock. Daylight revealed scenes from a war zone. As I made my way to work, I bumped over debris, dodged downed power lines (and poles), and guided my car carefully around the skeleton of a storage shed planted firmly in the middle of I-65. The devastation was simply overwhelming.

During those grim hours and days, I couldn’t imagine a more difficult crisis confronting our deeply wounded state. Yet, a month later, as I ponder these words from my home office, a bigger crisis faces not only Tennessee but the entire nation and world. In a few short weeks, COVID-19 has blanketed the globe, wrapping the nations in death, fear, anger, and confusion. In Tennessee, as we wrap up a second week of “safer at home” restrictions, social distancing, isolation, online meetings, hand sanitizer, and rationed toilet paper have become the new norm.

These two “once-in-a-lifetime” crises in a few, short weeks have renewed my awareness of three important realities:

1. Sin is bad. Look around; you can’t miss sin’s devastating effect on humanity and the natural world. The world is frightened, lost, and angry, with hopelessness apparent with each new social media post or political diatribe.
   

2. God is good. He is working His will and way through this and every other crisis or blessing.
   We see Him reflected in the selflessness of heroes on the frontlines of the battle against COVID-19. He is revealed in the majesty of nature, unfazed by human crisis. He continues to speak, His still small voice offering peace and comfort in the heart of the storm.
   

3. The church has a unique opportunity. Pausing from clearing rubble and brush after the Tennessee storms, I couldn’t help but smile at the sea of red shirts marking the FWB Disaster Response Team. I smiled again the first Sunday after social distancing drove church services online. Nervous pastors spoke truth through webcams to their livestreaming congregations. Tentative at first, their confidence grew with each point—a beautiful reminder the Church may be quarantined, but she remains alive and well in homes around the world.

Light shines brightest in the darkness, and I pray we look back at March 2020 as the watershed moment when a frightened world once again turned to the church as a beacon of hope pointing to the Savior.

About the Columnist: Eric K. Thomsen is managing editor of ONE Magazine. Email: eric@nafwb.org.