The Still, Small Voice and the Omaha Massacre

 

And after the earthquake a fire;

but the Lord was not in the fire:

and after the fire a still small voice.

— 1 Kings 19:12

             

            The mall shooting that killed nine people in Omaha recently in the classy department store, Von Maur, was full of grim ironies:

 

n       The staccato assault rifle fire interrupting the familiar Christmas tunes on the grand piano.

 

n       The streams of blood, staining the pristine, spacious store that feels like a gracious home.

 

n       The terrifying figure in military-style camouflage going berserk right by displays of kiddie toys and clothes all decked out for Christmas.

 

n       The loner from a broken home, a drug user with a criminal record at age 19, who had just been fired from his job for stealing, who told people his life was "a piece of $%^," making his last grim statement and sick attempt at "fame" through murder-suicide . . . in a beautiful store whose employees have personal preference files for favored customers and call you when there's a good sale or something new in stock you might want to buy.  

 

            What struck me is that the killer opened fire right by Von Maur's customer service counter. There, they offer you two perquisites: interest-free store charges, and free gift-wrapping. What a snapshot of what's wrong in our world today: here's a store that bends over backwards to be nice to you, and here's a young man whose rampage will forever mark that store and our town with the red and black stains of violence and massacre.

 

            It's the same snapshot of what God tries to do for each and every one of us: He offers us the free gift of salvation, eternal life and a comforting, encouraging personal relationship with Him . . . and yet so many of us don't even know it, or consciously reject it, and stay stuck in our sinful rampages and confusions and depressions. We can't even see what God wants to give us, we're so blinded by our pain and our sin - pain and sin that Jesus Christ wants to take away for us.

 

            But when you accept that gift and tune in to a personal relationship with Him, it's a far different story. It's literally a life-saver, and something else that happened at Von Maur proves that once again.

 

Earlier on the day of the shooting, a dear friend of mine, a strong Christian, cranked up some praise music and got on the elliptical machine to exercise and pray aloud. It seemed odd to her at the time, but the prayer that came out for her son Trevor, an expectant father, was for protection and for God to be his No. 1 focus. She didn't normally think of asking God to protect him, a big, strong young man.

 

            At about the time of the shooting, Trev came to her mind again; it was his day off, and she was a bit surprised he hadn't call her to "do Starbucks," a favorite mom-son connecting point.

 

            Shortly thereafter, she was at work when she heard about the shooting, and immediately called her husband. He burst into tears, and she could barely make out his words: "Trevor was right there, shopping -- he had just left Von Maur when it got bad."

 

            Turns out Trevor had been in the store looking at shirts and ties on the sales racks on the second floor, and decided to look for a new suit for his office Christmas party coming up. The only one he owns was a gift from his parents for his honeymoon cruise years ago.

 

            But as he started drifting over to look at the suits, a little voice inside him said, "They are going to be too expensive."

 

            A longtime Christian, and a bit of a tightwad, he knew it was the Holy Spirit. His silent, inward reply: "Yeah, that's probably right."

 

            And he left the store, browsing down the mall.

 

            He was several shop doors away when he heard what he thought were nail guns or construction sounds . . . and suddenly people were running and screaming out of Von Maur down the mall.

 

            There were sirens and police officers everywhere -- helicopters, officers with automatic rifles, people running and screaming, police cars jumping curbs and medians, a terrible knot of traffic with people trying to get away.

 

            He would have been right in the line of fire.

 

            It brings tears to my eyes as I write this . . . thinking of him and his dear mom . . . and sympathizing with the families for whom it wasn't a close call, but a shocking reality.

 

            So what is "the still, small voice" saying to you, after all this?

 

            Maybe you've thought of volunteering as a mentor for young people, to do what you can to help someone out there who's "flying" alone right now - to make sure they know that someone cares and wants to be a friend.

 

            Maybe it's to "stay prayed-up" for your loved ones just in case . . . to pray for the victims' families and friends . . . and to be sure to spend some money and do a long, slow prayer walk at Von Maur this Christmas season, in remembrance and resolve.

 

            Most of all, be thankful for the voice of the Christmas Child, Who guides you every day, if you'll just listen. He wants us all to know that, even if we don't believe it, even if we're in the pits of despair and at the end of our rope, no matter how bad things get or how much we hurt . . . we're never, ever, ever, EVER flying alone. †