I gripped my pen as she told me her story over the phone.
As she described it, I could see the danger her family faced and sense the fear on her children’s faces, the shock of losing their home, their community, everything but their lives.
She had lost so much.
But I cried with her–not because of all that had gone missing, but tears splashed onto my desk because she could see what she still had.
She could see the unseen. She could look through the blurry present and see a clear future. No, she didn’t have answers as to why her family had to evacuate the country they loved and served. But she could see God’s heart even though she couldn’t trace His hand.
She looked past the devastation and pain and she trusted that God would somehow redeem everything.
“We are like Joseph. He lost everything. He endured prison and pain and hell itself. But he could look past the struggle and say God intended this for good to accomplish the saving of many lives,” she whispered into the phone.
After the call, I put my head on my desk and I cried. For her. For me. For the countless who are hurting, asking God why. And then I asked God to help me see the unseen. To know that there is a plan in our pain. Truth in our turmoil. Faithfulness in our failures.