I've been a pastor long enough to know that there are moments when words simply aren't enough. And this is one of those moments.

Like so many of you, I've spent the past several days trying to process the tragedy at Silver Rail Elementary. I've thought about the families whose lives have been forever changed, the children who are scared, the teachers and staff carrying so much, and the first responders who walked into something no one should ever have to experience.

And I've thought about the questions so many of us are asking.
Where is God in all of this? How could something like this happen? How do we begin to move forward when our community is hurting so deeply?
I wish I had answers that could make sense of it all. I don't.

But there is something I believe with all my heart, and it's what I shared with our church on Sunday:
When everything falls apart, God doesn't.

That's not a statement meant to minimize what happened or suggest that everything will somehow be okay tomorrow. It's a truth we can hold on to when everything else feels uncertain.

One of the things I've been thinking about is how quickly we want to move from pain to answers. We want to make sense of things. We want to find something encouraging to say. We want to reassure ourselves and the people around us that everything is going to be okay.

I understand that instinct. I feel it too.

But sometimes, in our desire to help, we rush past the very real grief people are experiencing.

Psalm 46:1–2 says:
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea."

I can't think of a better description of what tragedy feels like. It's as if the ground beneath us has shifted. Things that once felt safe suddenly don't.

And I want you to hear this: You don't have to pretend you're okay to have faith in God.
The Bible is full of people who cried out to God in pain, confusion, fear, and even anger. We see it throughout the Psalms. It's called lament, and it's an important part of our faith.
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is simply tell God how much we're hurting.

We see this in Jesus Himself. When His friend Lazarus died, Jesus wept. He knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, yet He still entered into the grief of those around Him.

Romans 12:15 tells us to "mourn with those who mourn." Not explain away their pain. Not rush them toward feeling better. Just mourn with them.

You can trust God and still grieve.
You can trust God and still be angry about evil.
You can trust God and still ask why.

Faith doesn't mean pretending everything is okay. Faith means turning toward God when it isn't.

I know this is the question underneath so many of our other questions.

If God is good, and if God is powerful, why would He allow something like this to happen?

It's a question people have wrestled with for thousands of years. And while there are theological discussions worth having, I don't think an intellectual explanation is what most of us need right now. When we're hurting, we're not simply looking for an argument that makes sense. We're trying to understand how a loving God fits into a world where something so terrible can happen.

I don't have a complete answer for why God allows suffering. I don't know why this happened at Silver Rail. But I do know two things that I believe are incredibly important.

First, whatever the reason for suffering, it cannot be that God doesn't love us.

Romans 5:8 says: "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." And John 3:16 reminds us that God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son.

When I look at the cross, I see a God who loves us enough to enter our broken world and give His life for us. That doesn't answer every question I have about suffering. But it does remind me that God's love is not in question.

Second, whatever the reason for suffering, it cannot be that God doesn't understand our pain.
Jesus knows what it means to suffer. He experienced betrayal, rejection, grief, injustice, physical pain, abandonment, and death. Isaiah describes Him as "a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief."

Hebrews 4:15 reminds us that we have a Savior who understands our weaknesses and suffering. I find incredible comfort in that. We don't serve a God who watches suffering from a distance, untouched by what we're experiencing. We serve a God who stepped into our world and experienced suffering Himself.

The cross doesn't explain why every terrible thing happens. But it does show us that God is neither indifferent to our pain nor unfamiliar with it.

One of the passages I keep coming back to is Romans 8:38–39:
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

I love that promise.

But I also think it's important to understand what Paul is actually saying. He's not promising that bad things won't happen to us. He's not promising that following Jesus means we won't experience tragedy, grief, or loss. He's promising that nothing we experience can separate us from the love of God.

That's a very different promise.

Jesus Himself told His followers, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

We live in a broken world, and sometimes that brokenness is devastating. But even when our circumstances change in an instant, God's character does not. Even when we don't understand what He's doing, His love remains. And even when everything around us feels like it's falling apart, He is still present.

As I've watched our community respond to the tragedy at Silver Rail, I've been reminded of something else I believe deeply.

When things go bad, God's people should move toward the hurting.

Not because we have all the answers. Not because we can fix what happened. But because that's what love does.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 that God is the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort others. I love that picture.
God brings comfort to us, and then He works through us to bring comfort to others.

Galatians 6:2 tells us to "carry each other's burdens." Notice that word: carry.
It doesn't say fix each other's burdens. It doesn't say explain them away or make them smaller. It says carry them. And I think that's especially important for us to remember right now.

There are families in our community whose lives will never be the same. There are children who will need ongoing reassurance and support. Teachers and school staff who are trying to navigate their own grief while caring for students. First responders who may carry the weight of what they experienced for a long time. Their grief won't disappear when the headlines do. And our commitment to loving them shouldn't disappear either.

I want New Hope to be a church that continues showing up. That might mean listening to someone who needs to talk. Checking in with a teacher or parent. Praying consistently for the families affected. Offering practical help when it's needed. Or simply being willing to sit with someone in their pain without trying to make it better.

We don't need to have the perfect words. Sometimes the most meaningful thing we can say is, "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

I've been thinking about that question a lot. And while I can't explain why this tragedy happened, I can tell you what I believe Scripture makes clear.

God is near the brokenhearted.
He is with those who are grieving.
He is present in our pain.
And He is working through His people as they love and care for one another.

I know many of us are still processing. Some of you are angry. Some are afraid. Some are exhausted. Some are struggling to find words to pray.

Wherever you find yourself today, I want to encourage you not to rush through it.
Bring your questions to God. Tell Him how you're feeling. Spend time in His Word. Allow others to walk alongside you.

And as you're able, look for opportunities to extend that same care to someone else.

We may not have all the answers. But we can choose to keep trusting God and keep loving the people He's placed around us.

When everything falls apart, God doesn't.

That's the truth I'm holding on to. And my prayer is that you'll find strength to hold on to it too.

As we continue walking through this together, I'd encourage you to take a few minutes to reflect on three questions:

1. Am I giving myself and others permission to grieve honestly, or am I trying to rush toward answers?
2. When life doesn't make sense, what do I know to be true about God's character and His love?
3. Who might need me to show up for them this week, not with answers, but simply with compassion and presence?

Maybe your next step is reaching out to someone who's hurting. Maybe it's setting aside time to pray for the families at Silver Rail. Or maybe it's recognizing that you need someone to come alongside you right now.

Whatever that step looks like, take it.

We don't have to figure everything out today. We can simply take the next faithful step.
And we can keep taking those steps together.