Tragedy hits. Time seems to stand still. Details of the moment and place are etched on the mind. I vividly remember where I was on 9-11. And on the day I heard my Dad had died. We all have personal recollections like that.
I photographed these waves this week as a severe storm lashed parts of the U.K. Here, on the Channel coast, we were fairly sheltered but the waves came in fast and furious. Using a fast shutter speed, I “froze” the action – and shapes, colours and details were recorded. Looking at them afterwards, I saw much more detail than I had noticed in “real time.”
Energy stored in the waves exploded against shore defences and piles of shingle. It was noisy and relentless. Stones picked up in the fury were thrown up the beach and ricocheted through the air.
It was almost hypnotic – it took a conscious effort to look away.
Watching the news was like that.
White extremist terrorist(s) ruthlessly attacked two mosques in Christchurch, N.Z.
49 innocents died. Others are injured and traumatised. How can such concentrated hatred be released in such violence? But we are used to it. De-sensitised by repeated exposure. Syria, Yemen, Sudan, Palestine, Myanmar, and more. Nationalist and extremist politicians get a ready hearing while the voices of moderation and reason are shouted down.
In those frozen moments of time, how can we pray?
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
When time freezes, and as compassion rises, simple words are all we need. God does hear our cry- and we cry for the world. Then we stand against the dark, reflecting the Light of the World.
Psalm 27:1 (NLT) The LORD is my light and my salvation— so why should I be afraid? The LORD is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?