When tragedies happen
We all try to make sense of it
Did someone sin?
Was it punishment?
Was the shooter mentally ill?
Was the girl texting and driving?
Was the rapist possessed?
Did she simply not see the truck coming?
But even when we've answered
The questions
It's still not enough
It's not satisfying
There's still an empty place
A grief
And all my years of training
My degrees, my ordination
Cannot protect me from the grief
My position as an ordained pastor
Does not shield me from
Tragedy and pain
Even though I want it to
With all my sisters and brothers
I simply must say,
"I just don't know why"
Nevertheless,
"Lord have mercy,
Christ have mercy,
Lord have mercy!"
