One moment they were in their apartment building. The next they were under it. Ninety people trapped when a 7.7 magnitude earthquake in Myanmar suddenly leveled their building.
Fifty Myanmar children went to pre-school that day. At least a dozen died there in the sudden collapse of their school. The rest were listed as missing.
One doctor in Mandalay said: "Wherever I looked, I saw collapsed buildings. Only dust."
It's a tragedy that's almost incomprehensible. Especially when scientists are estimating the death toll could skyrocket to 10,000 lost. Not numbers. Somebody's son or daughter. Husband or wife. Mom or Dad.
In spite of the ferocity of the quake, many did not have to die. As one expert explained, building codes in this quake-prone area "fail to fully consider earthquake resistance measures." In other words, unlike places like Japan, structures are not built to withstand the shock of a major quake.
It's not just buildings with that kind of vulnerability. It's people.
Cancer. Stroke. Heart attack. The death of a child. Or, like me, the death of the love of your life.
It's just been a litany of loss lately among friends and acquaintances. Bad news from the doctor. Financial collapse. A devastating fire or storm. The collapse of a marriage.
Mental health and anxiety issues are off the charts.
It's like we're all living in a quakeprone zone. The question is not, "Will there be a lifequake?" It's "Is what I'm building my life on strong enough to withstand the trauma that shakes everything in my world?"
So many things we live for... we depend on... our "go to's" fail us when the quake hits. We look around and there's "only dust."
What is there that the quake can't take?
That's something the Biblical psalmist was weighing when he wrote these words: "God is or refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with surging... Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall" (Psalm 46). Literally, everything is collapsing.
But... "The Lord Almighty is with us."
A ship in a storm can be tossed around violently. But the anchor holds.
Mine did nine years ago next month. It shook my world like nothing else ever could. The Great Quake - death - suddenly took my Karen, the love of my life since I was 19.
But there's something it couldn't take. My personal relationship with the only Person who ever beat death. The one man who walked out of His grave under His own power. Jesus. The Christ. The Son of God.
Yes, the one who promised to love me "til death do us part" kept her promise. But death did us part.
But, in the words of Scripture, "Nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:39). It's the love we saw poured out for our sins on the day we call Good Friday. A love that didn't turn its back then. A love that never will.
Millions of people for two thousand years have anchored their life to this Jesus, and found that "we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure" (Hebrews 6:19).
It seems appropriate that on that morning we call Easter, "there was a violent earthquake" at the tomb of Jesus. For that is the day He walked out of that grave to conquer the Great Quake of death.
Someday I will face the Great Quake. But not alone. For "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For YOU are with me!" (Psalm 23:4)