Catastrophic Effects

As the area began to warm the ice hidden in our radiator pipe vaporized through a new crack and converted the back of our church into a steam room for who knows how long. The hole in the copper pipe was a bit smaller than the end of my pinky. At our final count we slurped up and carried out around 100 gallons of water from the church basement.

It's tempting to run off about how little trouble left hidden can cause lots of damage. That came to mind until I considered the bucket. Dirt and spider webs and half melted crayons, sawdust and black grit hung in suspension in each and every bucket. Decades of crud had been washed clean out and carried out.

Perhaps that is a reason these events come our way, grab our attention, fix it for hours, weeks and longer. Through catastrophe God removes crud. Catastrophe demands our full attention. The steam room where it shouldn't be shakes us to the timbers. Lakes and ponds in the cellar drowns forgotten spiders and works loose hidden splinters.

I hate catastrophes. My back hurts. My knees grow tired. I just want it to be done and back the way it's supposed to be. Yet without a flood some waste never gets dealt with. So thank God for the catastrophes.