Close to home

I'll be the first to admit that in this day and age when we are constantly bombarded by waves of urgent news and tragedy on the news all I want to do is turn it off. I've even become so hardened by it that I find myself apathetic to world events all together. I get tired of media hype that seems to last just a little too long and then forgets last week's tears and moves on to this week's sensation. Call me cold, but I tend to stop caring about the news because I don't actually think about it affecting real people. With all of the information overload, I have reduced these people in my mind to nothing more than extras in a never-ending made for tv movie.

But this morning my heart breaks as the world news headlines strike close to home and I realize my foolishness. There was a plane crash in Venezuela. Not just any plane. It's a flight that I've flown a dozen times before: from Merida (which is the last place I really called "home") and heading to the capital city of Caracas. In fact, one of my dear friends missed being on that flight by just 24 hours: same route, same time.
We always picked the same airline and condsidered the questionable nature of the aircraft part of living an adventure. I still have my frequent flyer "card," which is really just a piece of paper, tucked in my wallet as a humorous reminder of the backwards ways things often work in my beloved Venezuela.

Today that worn piece of paper becomes a reminder of the fragility of life. In the face of instant and continuous news sensations that little paper card now sits as a reminder of the deep reality of our fallen world. Friends, we are deeply fallen yet deeply loved by the God of the universe who sent His Son, Jesus, to die for us while we were yet sinners. (Romans 5:8). For the moment I find myself torn between emotions of grief and joy. We live in a place that is overwhelmed with tragedy and brokenness, but yet there is hope in Christ.