In the Path of the Flood
Beautiful and unsettling. That’s how I would describe the moment Monday night as I sat with my wife on the back patio.
The beautiful part is easy to explain. It was the first evening in our second season as empty nesters. The house was freshly quiet and empty after a house full for the summer and Kristin had the sweet idea of taking a few minutes to just sit and savor the quiet together. She even prepared a tasty little snack and lit a pretty candle. Even the surrounding neighborhood seemed peaceful as we sat in the warm evening air at our private outside table for two.
It was beautiful…and odd. How strange that I could sit there in comfortable delight while thousands in Houston were huddling in emergency shelters or still stuck on their rooftops. The sobering images fresh in my mind were so unlike my own reality it felt almost like fiction. Thousands of Houstonians would assure me it is most certainly real.
There is another dichotomy, however, even more stunning. I sit in peace on my porch absolutely confident I will live with God forever, even if I am suddenly swept away in an unexpected disaster. But literally a stone’s throw away are many living in the path of divine judgment who will soon be swept away if they are not rescued.
The sun’s predictable rising gives my neighbors a false sense of security, just as it did in Noah’s day, but we are assured the day of destruction will come. If the Columbia was threatening they would know it and desire help. If their house was on fire they would thank me forever for letting them know. But seeing no danger, my warnings will seem foolish, even annoying. I don’t want to be annoying. But a quiet evening on the patio reminds me I would rather seem a pest than silently watch dear friends be lost.