“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
There are no words good enough.
No sermon, no soundbite, no social media post can capture the raw agony of parents digging through mud-soaked memories for something—anything to hold onto. And yet, here we are, trying to say something, because silence feels like betrayal. And yet even the silence hurts too.
The recent floods in Texas have taken lives. Among them, children. Sons and daughters. Futures full of laughter and stories that will now never be told.
This isn’t a time for platitudes.
This is a time for presence.
For weeping.
For rage.
For honest, guttural questions.
Like: Where is God when the river rises?
Why didn’t He stop this?
Why would a loving God allow this kind of suffering?
If you’re asking that, you’re not faithless.
You’re human.
And if you’ve ever buried a child, like I have—you’re not just asking the question. You are the question.
The Problem of Pain: Why This Hurts So Much
Let’s just say it plainly:
There is no pain like the loss of a child.
We expect to lose our grandparents.
We fear losing our spouse.
But to lose your child is to have your future amputated.
To bury someone you were supposed to protect.
Theologians call this tension theodicy — the problem of reconciling a good, all-powerful God with the reality of evil and suffering. But when the waters rise and sweep away your baby’s smile, you don’t care about syllables. You just want to know one thing:
Where the hell was God?
Three Myths We Need to Break Right Now
Before we can build anything real, we have to break the lies.
Because American Christianity has spent too long spoon-feeding sanitized answers that don’t hold up in the flood.
1. “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”
This isn’t in the Bible. What is in the Bible? That God will allow you to face more than you can bear — so you can collapse into His arms.
Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 1:8, “We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself.”
God didn’t expect them to handle it.
He expected them to trust Him in it.
2. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Also not in the Bible.
Everything happens in a world that is broken.
Everything happens in a creation that groans (Romans 8:22).
And everything will be redeemed, yes.
But that doesn’t mean everything was orchestrated.
3. “If you had more faith, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Tell that to Jesus.
He had more faith than anyone.
And He still ended up bleeding on a cross, screaming, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Faith isn’t an immunity shield.
It’s a flashlight in the dark.
A Loving God in a Broken World
Here’s the hard truth:
God did not promise us a pain-free life.
He promised us His presence in the pain.
He didn’t create death.
He didn’t create destruction.
He created life.
But the moment humanity walked away from God, the floodgates opened.
Literally.
Genesis tells us that sin disrupted everything: the ground, the weather, our relationships, our health, our hearts.
Creation itself is fractured.
Not because God made it broken.
But because we did.
And yet, God stepped into the broken.
Not above it.
Not around it.
Into it.
Jesus wept.
Jesus bled.
Jesus died.
He didn’t just observe our pain.
He inhabited it.
Where Is God Now?
In Texas.
In the homes still soaked with sorrow.
In the parents who can barely breathe through their grief.
He is there.
Sitting in the ashes.
Holding the broken.
Whispering, “I know.”
Hebrews 4:15 reminds us, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses.”
That means He gets it.
Deeply.
And fully.
When the tears fall, He doesn’t count them from a distance.
Psalm 56:8 says He bottles them.
He doesn’t minimize pain.
He marks it.
And one day, He will redeem it.
But Why Doesn’t He Stop It Now?
If God is powerful enough to prevent tragedy, why doesn’t He?
Let me offer a humble, human answer:
Because for God to remove all suffering, He would have to remove all freedom.
Freedom to build a home.
Freedom to live near a river.
Freedom to design cities and damns and drainage systems.
Freedom to sin. To ignore the poor. To neglect the marginalized.
Freedom to act wisely—or not.
God gave us dominion.
And He refuses to treat us like puppets.
Because love that is forced is not love.
That doesn’t mean He is indifferent.
It means He is committed to a bigger story than comfort.
He is committed to restoration.
To resurrection.
To renewal.
What Can We Do Right Now?
Grief doesn’t ask for answers.
It asks for presence.
Here are some real things we can do for these families:
1. Show up.
Don’t underestimate the power of presence.
Send a message.
Send a card.
Send food.
Sit in the living room and say nothing.
Just be there.
2. Pray honestly.
Stop praying to impress people.
Pray raw.
Pray the Psalms.
Pray like Job, like Hannah, like David.
God can handle your fury.
He’s not offended.
He’s a Father.
3. Give what you can.
Time. Money. A spare room. Supplies. Silence. Shoulder space.
Whatever you have, bring it.
Loaves and fishes still multiply in the hands of a compassionate Savior.
4. Advocate for justice.
Sometimes disaster reveals the cracks in our systems.
Who wasn’t warned?
Who was ignored?
Who always seems to suffer first?
Follow Jesus into those places.
How Should We Pray Now?
When the world is loud with grief, our prayers don’t have to be polished. They need to be real.
Here are some prayers for today:
- God, hold the grieving. Let them feel You in ways they never imagined.
- God, silence the shame. Don’t let them blame themselves.
- God, redeem this horror. Somehow. Someday. Don’t let it be wasted.
- God, give us strength to help. Show us where we can step in and love.
And maybe, in the quiet, listen for Him too.
He still speaks.
Even through tears.
Final Thoughts: The Kingdom Is Rising, Even Through Tears
Jesus never promised us a storm-free life.
But He did say, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
The flood will not have the final word.
Neither will the grave.
There is a day coming when every tear will be wiped away (Revelation 21:4).
Until then, we weep with those who weep.
We stand in the gap.
We speak the truth:
That God is still good.
That Jesus still reigns.
That love will outlast death.
And that no flood can wash away a Father’s love.
Even as the waters rise.
Even when hearts break.
Even now.