07/28/2025
“WHERE WAS GOD IN THE FLOOD?
Over the past few days, my heart has wrestled deeply with the tragedy unfolding in Texas. The floodwaters have swept away more than cabins, they’ve shaken families, broken hearts, and left many of us asking the hard questions. As a shepherd, I’m supposed to have answers. But sometimes, I just have tears. This isn’t a post filled with easy explanations, it’s one born out of pain, prayer, and the unshakable truth that even in the flood, God is still present.
This is the heart-wrenching tension we must sit with, one that stretches both the human soul and the theological framework of even seasoned believers.
Could God have stopped the flood?
Yes.
Could He have preserved every life?
Absolutely.
Did He have the power to send angels, divert waters, or awaken every camper before danger came?
Without question.
And yet, He didn’t. Not in the way we prayed. Not in the way we hoped.
This is where we enter the sacred realm of mystery.
Even the Apostle Paul, caught up to the third heaven, confesses: “Now we see through a glass, darkly…” 1 Corinthians 13:12
There are moments in life where divine sovereignty doesn’t align with human expectation, and in those moments, our theology must not collapse, it must deepen.
We often ask, “Why didn’t God act?” But what if the deeper question is: “Why does He sometimes choose restraint, even when it breaks His own heart?”
The cross is our clearest example. Jesus could have called twelve legions of angels to prevent His crucifixion. But He didn’t. Not because He couldn’t, but because there was a greater purpose at work, a redemptive plan hidden within suffering.
Could this be one of those moments?
We do not claim to know the full mind of God (Isaiah 55:8–9), but we do know this: His delay is never His absence, and His silence is never His apathy.
Sometimes God restrains His hand so that a greater Kingdom revelation might emerge, even through the ashes of grief.
This Is Not Judgment. This Is Travail.
Let us be clear: this tragedy is not a sign of God’s judgment on these children, this camp, or this region. This is not wrath, it is travail.
Creation is groaning.
The earth is trembling.
And the Kingdom is advancing through birth pains, not comfort (Matthew 24:8).
This flood did not take God by surprise, but nor was it His delight. We serve a God who weeps with us (John 11:35) and enters into our suffering with scars of His own.
What We Do Know
Though we cannot answer every “why,” the believer’s voice must anchor the people of God in what is unshakably true:
He is still good. His goodness is not circumstantial, it’s covenantal. The cross remains the proof of His love, not our circumstances.
He is still just. His justice may not be immediate, but it is inevitable. Every tear will be accounted for, every injustice will be made right, every hidden pain will be healed.
He is still present. Even in the storm, He was there, in the cries, in the chaos, in the quiet miracles. He is “Emmanuel,” God with us, in the flood as much as in the fire.
He is still working. As Romans 8:28 declares: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”
This does not mean all things are good. It means that even the worst thing, like a flood that takes young lives, can become the soil for divine redemption. Let’s not allow mystery to give way to unbelief, let’s not allow pain to steal our posture of faith.
This is the time for the Ekklesia to weep and war, to mourn with those who mourn, to declare the goodness of God even in the valley, to contend for a generation that has been shaken.
We don’t have all the answers, but we have a God who still speaks, a Gospel that still saves, and a Kingdom that cannot be shaken.”
Pastor Scott Reece
River City Church
Moline, IL
