It’s 5 a.m. in Dubai. I’m awakened by a loud bang and my bedroom windows shaking. My wife also wakes with a start and sits up. My half-sleeping brain tries to process: What was that? The adrenaline kicks in and reminds me of the nightmare of chaos and fear that spreads in the Middle East.
I go outside, and a plume of smoke is in the sky over Dubai. A missile from Iran’s retaliatory attacks has been intercepted by the UAE. I’m thankful for the protection offered by the UAE from the barrage of missiles. As the day progresses these explosions continue, rattling the windows and doors, not to mention the nerves of my family and neighbors.
It’s strange how moments of crisis bring clarity. Each defensive burst clarifies realities I was already aware of but had hidden under the hum and drum of everyday life. These missiles provide moments of clarity into what’s most important.
Explosion 1
As the first blast wakes me, I’m reminded of the deep corruption and evil that fill the world. Weapons of violence are crafted to destroy, maim, and kill. Often, the violent are indiscriminate in their killing. Our swords and weapons have not yet been melted down and destroyed. They still explode. They still kill.
The insidious presence of evil in this world seeks to kill, steal, and destroy. Evil isn’t simply the absence of the good; it devours and ravages without pity. It corrupts and contaminates from within, leading to death. Natural and moral evil are inherently ugly, consuming, and pervasive.
Explosion 2
More drones are intercepted over Dubai. I’m gripped with the realization that normal life is a gift. I want to go back to thinking about the laundry piling up, the dentist appointment that needs to be scheduled, and the press of work life. Right now, those things seem distant. And I realize with a new clarity: life is a gift. The daily rhythms themselves are a gift of grace.
Even in the tension of the moment and sheltering in place, I get glimpses of the beauty of normal everyday life. The hug from my wife, the smell of coffee, and the taste of chocolate remind me that life is good. Even in evil days, the vibrant beauty of life shines through.
Explosion 3
I’m not as strong as I think I am. Anxiety takes hold for a few moments. I want to put a strong face on for my wife and children and those around me, but I start to cave to old anxieties. What if we run out of water? What if there are no ways of evacuation? What if . . . ? As the “what ifs” mount, I remember my frailty and weakness. As I look at the official news about the number of drones and missiles intercepted, I need the Lord to breathe over me, “Peace, be still.”
These missiles are reminding me that I’m weak and frail, in need of the grace of God. I’m not a strong minister of the gospel; I’m a weak and needy human encompassed by concerns, anxieties, and needs.
I’m not a strong minister of the gospel; I’m a weak and needy human encompassed by concerns, anxieties, and needs.
Explosion 4
I’m struck by the fact that Jesus is still on his throne. Though the nations rage and the people plot in vain (Ps. 2), Jesus is ascended in majesty and glory. He rules over all and has authority over all people. Secondary causes are real, but he is sovereign over every piece of shrapnel that falls to the ground. The kings of the earth may think they have control over situations, but they do not.
All dominion over the earth has been given to the risen Son of Man. As Hebrews 2:8–9 says, “Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. But we see . . . Jesus, crowned with glory and honor.” All things are under his control. All things will eventually reflect this reality. He is enthroned and in control now. Soon enough, we will see this reality perfectly realized, and there will be no more war, missiles, shrapnel, escalations, fear, and death.
These explosions—though frightening—are hollow sounds reminding us that evil will one day cease completely.
These explosions—though frightening—are hollow sounds reminding us that evil will one day cease completely.
Explosion 5
This explosion happens while we are in an online meeting for prayer with church members. This explosion is the largest of the day and the most frightening. I make sure my children are not too scared. A dear sister prays, “Father, remind us that these explosions and missiles and war are nothing in comparison to your wrath against sin. Remind us to share the gospel with those around us because we desire for them to be saved.” Explosions remind us of the coming wrath of God against sin when he returns to judge the living and the dead.
In daily life, the thought of the great day of judgment is far from our minds. We go about our business and think little of the wrath to come. But moments of crisis—especially moments of war—remind us that judgment is coming. We must be ready by turning from sin and clinging to Jesus.
Gift of Quiet Calm
As I write this, it has been quiet for a few hours. I mourn the loss of life in the region and hope the war ends quickly. I’m praying that it opens doors to a new way of life for many people and opens doors to more gospel ministry in this region.
For me, it was good to be reminded of the truths of God’s word (Ps. 119:71). These missiles have brought me moments of clarity.
The Gospel Coalition