When God Weeps

"I'm across the ocean in England when the fax arrives at my hotel, relaying the story. John's wife, along with a nurse, found him in the early morning with ants still in his hair, mouth, and eyes. His skin was badly bitten and burned. Pray for him, the fax conveys, we've never seen him so depressed. I'm speaking at a conference, conveying the plight of disabled people. I'm speaking of God's mercy and his protection over the weak and the vulnerable. I sit by the receptionist's desk and want to read the fax a second time but can't. My stomach's sick. John is a Christian. His God can see in the dark."
-p24

"Thirty seconds after the 1995 terrorist bomb exploded in Oklahoma City, people lay writhing everywhere in pools of blood...Near you lies a women- face, torso, and arms shredded with glass shrapnel. An artery has obviously been hit, but you can't tell exactly where from a few away. The horror of the sight may make you feel faint. You may feel confused and panicked. You may feel afraid that another bomb will go off. You may feel like cursing or praying. You may feel a thousand things- but if you don't stop the feeling and start thinking about how to stop her flow of blood and attend to her shock, this women may die.

But shouldn't people have feelings after such a blast? Oh, yes. Intense suffering calls for deep emotions. In the aftermath, Oklahoma and the nation should weep and weep. We should weep. God weeps. 'To everything there is a season...a time to weep.' But there is also a time to think. Neither can replace the other."
-p66

Joni Eareckson Tada and Steven Estes