The tragedy that is unfolding in the Texas Hill Country has raised many questions. The turbulent floodwaters of the Guadalupe river has swept away more than just cars, cabins and homes. They have taken innocent lives; they have broken hearts, shaken and destroyed families, and have left many asking hard questions. The hardest question, especially for Christians, being, “Wheras God?”
It is within tragedies like these, that we must deal with heart and soul wrenching questions that try and test both our human spirit and the theological framework of our faith.
Could God have prevented the flood? Could He have saved and preserved every life? Did God have the power to awaken every young camper before life-threatening danger arrived? The answer is a resounding “Yes”.
And yet, God did not.
God did not act in the way that we expected, in the way that we hoped and prayed. In fact, to many it seems that God was unaware, or even worse unconcerned, uncaring.
There are times, like this tragedy, or other natural events like hurricanes, tornadoes, wildfires, pandemic disease, or even human-made tragedies of war, terrorist bombings, famine, where it appears that divine sovereignty doesn’t align with our human expectations.
It is exactly that within these tragic events that our theology must not falter, must not weaken, must not collapse — it must strengthen and deepen.
When faced with these events, we often ask, or we are questioned by those outside the faith in a mocking manner, “Why didn’t God act?” But the deeper question is “Why does God sometimes choose restraint, even when it causes Him heart-rendering sorrow?” Make no mistake God is not sitting somewhere unconcerned and unfeeling. He knows and feels our pain and suffering.
Jesus dying on the cross is our best example and answer to this question. Jesus, the Son of God, could have called down legions of angels to prevent His crucifixion — but he didn’t. Not because He couldn’t, but rather because there was a greater purpose at work, a redemptive plan hidden within the suffering.
Could this be one of those moments?
No one can claim to know the full mind of God. In Isaiah 55:8-9 (NRSV)
8“For my thoughts are not your thoughts nor are your ways my ways,” says the Lord.
9“For as the heavens are higher than so are my ways higher than and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
In trying to understand the mind of God and His actions, we enter into the realm of sacred mystery. Even the Apostle Paul confesses, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly …” 1 Corinthians 13:12 (NRSV)
We do know that God’s seemingly inaction is never His absence, and His silence is never His indifference to our suffering.
Sometimes, God restrains His hand so that a greater Kingdom revelation might emerge, even through the ashes of grief.
Let us be very clear: this tragedy is not sign of God’s judgement on these children, these families, this region.
This is not Wrath; it is not Judgement — it is Travail — a time of spiritual growth through painful experience. It is the Kingdom of God advancing through birth pains, not easy comfort.
The Hill Country Flood did not take God by surprise, nor was it His delight. We serve a God who weeps with us (see John 11:35) and who enters into our suffering through His Son with scars of His own.
We cannot answer every “why”. But as believers, we must anchor ourselves in our faith and voice what is undeniably true.
God is still Good. His goodness is not circumstantial, it is covenantal. Jesus on the cross remains the proof of His love, not our circumstances.
God is still Just. His justice may not be immediate, but it is inevitable. Every tear will be accounted for, every injustice will be made right, every pain will be healed.
God is still present. God was there. In the cries, in the anguish, in the chaos, and in the quiet miracles. He is Emmanuel — God with us. In the flood and the destruction.
In Romans 8:28 (NRSV), we are told, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” This does not mean everything that occurs is good, it means that even in the worst of times, like this flood that took so many young innocent lives, even this horrendous tragedy can become the soil for divine redemption. We cannot allow the mystery of God’s action to give way to unbelief. We cannot allow pain and suffering to destroy our faith.
As it says in Ecclesiastes, this is a time to weep, a time to mourn with those who are mourning, but it is also a time to declare the goodness of God even in the utter darkness of despair and grief.
We don’t have all the answers. We never will. But we have a God who still speaks to us. A Gospel that still saves. A Kingdom that cannot be shaken, and a Faith than cannot be broken.