In the tiny Bible-belt town where I grew up, tragedy brought people together. Friends, neighbors, and even complete strangers would go the extra mile for a family in need. House fire? They'd hold a community fundraiser. Funeral? Enough casseroles would pile up in the kitchen to feed an army.
When times were at their worst, these folks were at their best.
And in that way, they seemed quite unlike the God many of them worshiped on Sunday.
When times are at their worst, many of us wonder, “Where the hell is God?” Because the evidence suggests he’s on a cruise to the Bahamas. Or sleeping off a hangover. Or too preoccupied with bigwig affairs to waste time on us peons. Wherever he is, he’s not where we desperately need him to be—here, with us...........