When Tragedy Shakes Us
By Ryan Dawson
It’s hard to make sense of tragedy. Our hearts are heavy as we grieve the devastating news of the mass shooting in Tumbler Ridge, BC. The loss of life, the pain, fear, and the wake of trauma left behind are overwhelming. This is not how the world is supposed to be, and the weight of it all is hard to process.
Moments like this leave us searching for words—and often, searching for God.
Where is God in all of this?
Why does violence seem to win?
How long will sin and brokenness have the final word?
These are not new questions. God’s people have cried out like this for centuries. The prophet Habakkuk gives voice to the very ache many of us are feeling right now:
How long, Lord, must I call for help,
but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, “Violence!”
but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?
Destruction and violence are before me;
there is strife, and conflict abounds.
(Habakkuk 1:2–4, NIV)
Habakkuk doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He doesn’t rush past grief or silence his questions. He brings them honestly before God. And while he doesn’t receive tidy answers to every “why,” he does come to a deeper realization: in a world marked by sin and brokenness, God remains our only hope.
By the end of the book, Habakkuk chooses something courageous and countercultural—trust. Not because circumstances improved, but because God had not changed.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Saviour.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.
(Habakkuk 3:17–19, NIV)
This is not denial. It is defiant hope. It is faith that says: evil will not have the last word.
Jesus will come again. Justice will be restored. Every tear will one day be wiped away.
Until that day, we grieve. We pray. We stand with those who are hurting.
I recently received the following prayer from Shaila Visser, Director of Alpha, and I found it deeply helpful. I invite you to pray it with me for the people of Tumbler Ridge.
A Prayer for Tumbler Ridge
Father of compassion and God of all comfort,
we ask on behalf of all those in Tumbler Ridge that you would give them a deep sense of your presence, your comfort, and your peace.
We don’t fully understand what the students, teachers, families, and community members need—but you do.
We especially pray for those who have lost someone they love. In their deep sorrow, please bring your comfort and strength for each step ahead.
For those still receiving medical care, we ask for healing.
Strengthen the first responders, investigators, the mayor and council, and all who serve and support this community.
Lord, in your mercy, provide your peace that passes all understanding.
Guide us as we seek to love our neighbours well, so that those in need experience your compassion and care through us.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
As we grieve, may we also be people who show up—with prayers and with love. And may we hold fast to this hope: God is near to the broken-hearted, and one day He will make all things new.
In His Grip, Ryan
It’s hard to make sense of tragedy. Our hearts are heavy as we grieve the devastating news of the mass shooting in Tumbler Ridge, BC. The loss of life, the pain, fear, and the wake of trauma left behind are overwhelming. This is not how the world is supposed to be, and the weight of it all is hard to process.
Moments like this leave us searching for words—and often, searching for God.
Where is God in all of this?
Why does violence seem to win?
How long will sin and brokenness have the final word?
These are not new questions. God’s people have cried out like this for centuries. The prophet Habakkuk gives voice to the very ache many of us are feeling right now:
How long, Lord, must I call for help,
but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, “Violence!”
but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?
Destruction and violence are before me;
there is strife, and conflict abounds.
(Habakkuk 1:2–4, NIV)
Habakkuk doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He doesn’t rush past grief or silence his questions. He brings them honestly before God. And while he doesn’t receive tidy answers to every “why,” he does come to a deeper realization: in a world marked by sin and brokenness, God remains our only hope.
By the end of the book, Habakkuk chooses something courageous and countercultural—trust. Not because circumstances improved, but because God had not changed.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Saviour.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.
(Habakkuk 3:17–19, NIV)
This is not denial. It is defiant hope. It is faith that says: evil will not have the last word.
Jesus will come again. Justice will be restored. Every tear will one day be wiped away.
Until that day, we grieve. We pray. We stand with those who are hurting.
I recently received the following prayer from Shaila Visser, Director of Alpha, and I found it deeply helpful. I invite you to pray it with me for the people of Tumbler Ridge.
A Prayer for Tumbler Ridge
Father of compassion and God of all comfort,
we ask on behalf of all those in Tumbler Ridge that you would give them a deep sense of your presence, your comfort, and your peace.
We don’t fully understand what the students, teachers, families, and community members need—but you do.
We especially pray for those who have lost someone they love. In their deep sorrow, please bring your comfort and strength for each step ahead.
For those still receiving medical care, we ask for healing.
Strengthen the first responders, investigators, the mayor and council, and all who serve and support this community.
Lord, in your mercy, provide your peace that passes all understanding.
Guide us as we seek to love our neighbours well, so that those in need experience your compassion and care through us.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
As we grieve, may we also be people who show up—with prayers and with love. And may we hold fast to this hope: God is near to the broken-hearted, and one day He will make all things new.
In His Grip, Ryan