Transformation Through A Dark Room

Searching for God’s fingerprints on a mission trip after living in routine is like walking into a dark room after playing in the noon day sun. The room is filled with incredible displays of God’s handiwork. Each artifact reveals purpose and beauty. But to our eyes the room is dark. If we peek in, we see nothing and leave. If we storm in, we knock our shins on what we cannot see and only feel the pain of what’s inside. Until we allow our eyes to adjust, nothing we see will be an accurate perception of reality.

From a distance, New Orleans might look like an empty room. The media sees no need to report anything anymore. It may be reasonable to think three years would be enough time to heal wounds from the storm. It’s not. As we’ve entered the room, we’ve experienced sharp blows from many different angles.

The tile crew spent time with their homeowner who lost her mother storm. Unable to evacuate in time, the dialysis dependent woman died en route to another hospital. It’s amazing how such a chilling death can occur in 2005. The neighbor of our home has serious health concerns resulting from living in a formaldehyde-laced, mold-infested trailer for two years. The storm stripped away modern luxuries before and after it landed and replaced them with grief beyond what most people will ever know. I want our team to know. It’s important for us to know because it’s the first step in recognizing God’s handiwork in the room; we have to know there’s something inside. Unless we feel the pain, we’ll spin around and head out thinking nothing is in the room.

The next phase is where we must steep those afflictions in prayer. Despair and fatalism creep in quickly when we fail to keep an infinitely wise, supremely power, and ultimately loving God in consideration. Our first reaction to these painful feelings will be to close our eyes and curse the cause. We might turn from the room and seek to develop explanations from our distorted understanding of what’s in the room. Until we allow our eyes to adjust, the suffering will appear meaningless and wasted. Warped views of God result from attempts to formulate conclusions based upon a lack of perspective and understanding. Though our minds are too feeble to grasp the totality of God’s purposes in calamity, we can always trust they exist.

Ultimately, the room is full of the glory of God. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” (Isaiah 6:3) Under no circumstance can we expect to an absence of the glory of God. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Corinthians 3:18) God’s way of transforming people is by beholding his glory, the manifestation of his holiness, the expression of his manifold perfections. I want this trip to bring transformation to our group, but I want it to come through God’s appointed method, beholding the glory of God. The strands of suffering when seen through veiled eyes cannot be known fully until we notice they weave into a much bigger and more glorious tapestry than we could ever fathom. From an eternal vantage point, we will one day stand in complete awe of the splendor of God’s handiwork.

Please pray for our group as we witness intense and graphic suffering. Pray God would reveal the hope and greater purposes through affliction. If beauty can be found and God can be glorified through the heinous crucifixion of Jesus Christ, surely such beauty and glory can exist in the wake of Katrina in New Orleans. Surely, if we see it, we will be transformed by it.