You've seen funnel clouds.
You've seen tornadoes.
But imagine a path of destruction more than 20 miles long.
Such a tornado touched down recently in north central Illinois, not far from where my wife and I often visit on weekends. Cruising through this rural area is no longer a peaceful drive. A restaurant we've eaten at was leveled by the storm. So were dozens of homes and farms. We managed to get up close to some of the wreckage and I snapped some pictures–a soul-darkening experience.
The photos don't begin to do justice to the violence: mangled farm implements, trucks tossed onto their backs… scraps of insulation, chunks of wood, metal fragments jammed at obtuse angles into the ground. The odd assortment of upright fragments made front yards appear like cemeteries to the dead and dismembered homes all around.
In a scene recalling the planting of the American flag on Iwo Jima, I saw one worker atop a knocked over grain silo, seemingly determined to get the thing set up right. Most shocking of all were the eerily clean cement slabs where houses had stood— driveways now leading to nowhere.
There was one (literal) bright spot in all of this destruction: Samaritan's Purse, Franklin Graham's relief organization. The orange tee-shirts of the volunteer workers were impossible to miss. The workers cleared trees, hauled wheelbarrows and moved mountains of debris.
By contrast, I didn't happen to see any volunteers from the American Civil Liberties Union or Americans United for Separation of Church and State. No, the people digging through the mud were followers of Jesus, serving as His hands and feet. A reminder that rescue is never far from the heart of Christ.
Psalm 147:3, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”