Tornadoes and Being Missional

Last night was the premier of Discovery Channel's Storm Chasers. 

I'm not going to lie - I'm a total geek and I love science. I love meteorology.  I grew up in Cleveland watching the sky - and there were some wicked storms that would come off Lake Erie in the Spring and Summer.  I remember standing in my godparents backyard, on the driveway, looking up at the anvil cloud - a thunderstorm in the making whose top had reached so high it was sheared by the wind giving it a flat, anvil-like look.  I remember standing on the concrete patio on the back of parents house with the aluminim roof listening to thunderous noise of hail plummeting to earth.  I remember waking up more than once to my dad carrying me down to the basement because the weather dictated that we go underground for safety.

Though my eyes have always scanned the sky and I get good and geeked up over the science of weather and the physical forces that cause it, there was something about the 2011 tornado season that impacted me in a completely different way. 

Throughout March and April tornadoes had been ripping through the plains, causing death and destruction.  I watched as one particular line of strong storms marched eastward.  I remember the forecasters saying that it was going to be bad in North Carolina - that we should expect the intensity to remain high and cause tornadic activity.  On a Saturday afternoon, I watched the sky begin to darken and thought, "Okay, here we go."  I turned on the TV to see the composition of the storm and look at the radar.  Within minutes, around 3PM, one particular cell to my southwest went tornado warned.  I started to pay attention more closely - the Doppler hook on the radar was the most impressive I've ever seen. Then the meteorologist said, "We have a spotter-sighted tornado."  I felt like time began to slow down. Spotter sighted - a human being sees the tornado. The storm was moving NE - toward my location.

I continued to watch the weather, like I'm sure everyone in Raleigh did. I prayed and waited.  Downtown Raleigh took a direct hit.  The tornado stayed on the ground.  Right around 4, the color of the sky where I was changed and had a green hue. I knew what that meant and went to the safest place in my house.  I was by myself (my son was it his dad's) sitting on my bathroom floor downstairs, waiting to see what would happen - well aware that I could be minutes away from seeing Jesus face-to-face.

And then it went silent. And I don't mean just peaceful quiet. I mean eerily quiet. No sounds. No wind. No rain. No birds. No crickets. Nothing. That lasted for about 60 seconds. Then the sky opened up and all heck broke loose with rain and wind and thunder and lightning. I knew the worst had passed.  I emerged from the bathroom as the rain let up and went outside to check my house and to check on my neighbors.  All was well, but I could hear police and fire crews screaming by - I knew others weren't so fortunate.

I pulled a storm chaser move and scrambled up to the top of my SUV to get a better look a the storm as it moved east. It was a monster.  Later, as I pulled out of the neighborhood to go to Bible study I saw a rainbow beautifully visible against the charcoal gray sky.  I stopped and again climbed to the top of my car to take a picture.  And in that moment I heard a still, small voice speak into my heart - "God sees and He knows." That was the caption I put with the photo as I posted it to Facebook.

As I drove out of my neighborhood I started to see the destruction.  I thought, "How close was the tornado to me?"  As it turned out I was within a half mile of the damage path.  And I saw destruction. Trees, houses, debris. Power outages. The news reports said that areas of Buffaloe Road were heavily impacted.  My son's school was in that area.  The next day my son and I drove up to his school. The destruction was incredible. Power lines down. Trees everywhere. Houses flattened. Roofs missing or heavily damaged.  The school roof damaged.  In the bus loop at the school had a stand of pine trees to one side. It looked as if the trees had been removed and a stand of toothpicks planted instead. 

And in my heart something happened. A profound sense of grief for the people that were in the direct path of the tornado that ripped through.  I saw people walking around - trying to make sense of what they were seeing.  Kids, looking a little shell-shocked, walking down the side of the road.  I saw the destruction and the devastation first hand and in my heart this love for my city and for my community welled up.  I cried out to God, "How can I help these people?"

I've always been fairly missional. I care deeply about other people and have always tried to give lavishly to others.  Missional for me had always been more individual than community.  But in that space of 24 hours it went to both individual and community.  The school was closed Monday and reopened Tuesday.  My employer graciously allowed me whatever time I needed to help at the school. My neighbors and I provided practical help by way of donating goods and food to those who had lost everything.  I wanted to see these people made whole again and comforted in a time of uncertainty.

As I prayed, God pressed in to my heart saying, "Everyone has a story and that story needs to be heard."  That is what I did as the school reopened.  I spent several hours listening to the stories of the kids. Of the staff. Of the parents. And in the process my heart was opened to my community in a way that only God can do. As they told their stories they experienced relief, they experienced community, and I was able to love them as they stood in a dark and uncertain place.

Missional is a buzz word that the evangelical community is super into.  In fact, there are some who have sacrificed the gospel to be "missional" and attact people to the church. That isn't at all the concept of missional living. True missional living starts and ends with the gospel. I don't serve my community in order to say I'm awesome or my church is awesome. I serve my community because, through Christ, I have a genuine love for it.  I want to show my city Jesus by loving it.  I don't serve them to gain anyone's love - I serve because I already have the ultimate love - of Christ Himself. He's given me His eyes to see the community I'm in and to love its people passionately.  And he birthed this more fully in me through a natural disaster that helped me see my community in a new light.

So as I watched Storm Chasers last night and saw the footage of the tornadoes that ripped through Alabama just a couple weeks after the tornado in Raleigh, my heart broke for the people all over again.  Here, though not so badly hit, people are still rebuilding. There are still blue tarps over roofs as the homeowners wait for their turn to receive repairs. One house completely demolished has risen again from the ground, more magnificent than it was to begin with, but still in the process of being built - nearly seven months after the storm came through.

And as I drive through the streets of Raleigh, I have a deep desire to love my city in a way I didn't this time last year.  And for that, I'm thankful.  God can truly use anything for our good and His glory.  In an afternoon the lives of many were forever changed.  Including mine.