Who&#39;s Next?

We all probably thought it.

Just over twenty-four hours after another massive shooting, we woke, sipped some coffee, and asked, "Who's next?"

Movie goers? Marathon runners? Elementary school kids? A Christian prayer group? Clubbers at a gay bar?

Notice the trend?

There isn't one.

And so we wonder, "Who's next?" Your loved one or mine?

Before I make much of the growing predicament we're in, my thoughts drift to those who already live day to day in harsh environments.

I don't know them personally. But I read about them in the news and on blogs. And even with our current news, their plight still trumps mine.

You know... those who wake every day not knowing when violence will overtake their village or home or city. Or those who have already lost everything, left what little they had, only to find themselves tossed between countries with no where to go.

We're typically insulated from up close encounters with those life experiences. But they're creeping in.

The violence is real. The fear somewhat paralyzing. The loss sometimes larger than life.

However, by days end yesterday, I sat in a wooden pew, in a downtown church I only learned about a few weeks ago. And I wasn't alone.

When you step into the church, you step back in time to when wooden pews, paneled walls, choir lofts, and Baptismal fonts (highlighted by paintings of rushing water) were the norm.

Yesterday, that felt good. Comfortable even, albeit, a little too warm without air conditioning.

So why pray in the heat?

Several months earlier, a member of the church's small congregation went on a mission trip with members of the church I attend, Sanctuary Church. While overseas, the young woman learned how our pastor, Craig Bowler, met and partnered with another aging pastor who had been praying for God to use his outdated building for a new generation of believers.

Over five years later, our congregation is thriving.

So the young woman asked, "Could you do that again?"

You see, Brownsville Memorial Baptist church is located on prime, Atlanta real estate. Yet its aging pastor recently turned down a several million dollar offer to sell the land. Instead of profiting from a sale, he's hoping our congregation will stand along side their small band of Christ followers and help revitalize what was once a thriving community of faith.

So we prayed.

As news threads continued to spill out grimy details about the most recent assailants past, we prayed for something new. For God to move. For lives to find the hope and peace that are ours through faith in Jesus Christ.

So who's next?

Maybe one of the women who live in the homeless shelter next door to the church. Or maybe one of the small business owners who work close by. Or maybe even one of the young singles who lives in the new splashy apartments just up the street.

Maybe, they'll pass the church, hear the whisper of His voice, and take time to sit in His presence and lean into faith.

That's what we prayed for, and that's what I'm believing God will do. In the midst of violence and strife, He will make Himself known to His people.

I played the piano for the Brown Memorial service last week. Before I left, a young homeless woman approached me and asked if I knew a certain hymn. I couldn't recall it at the time, but after a google search, I have it down and will play it there next week.

Enjoy... and go lay your burden down.