08/15/2026
You’re powerless.
You’re driving 2 hours for what normally is a commute of 20 minutes. You’re in a line that’s thirty-cars long waiting to buy gas to power your generator. You’re shopping for a generator only to find every hardware store near you is sold out. You’re emptying your fridge and freezer of all the food you couldn’t save. You’re passing the time playing card games and eating dry-dinners by candlelight – wondering if your power will be restored before the next downpour comes.
You’re frustrated, drenched, afraid, and exhausted.
You’re going days without power – and you’re ready to no longer be powerless.
During the storms that ripped through the Region two months ago, our sump system failed at our parsonage, and our fully finished basement flooded multiple times. By the evening of that June 11th storm, our entire basement would be covered with water: my study, my wife’s home office, our kid’s play space, our pantry – all of it. During the initial flooding, I did everything I could to stop the water from sweeping through our basement – but no matter how hard I tried, I was powerless to stop it.
Concerns of mold in our basement are very real (especially when you have a wife with asthma, a toddler, and an infant at home) but mold remediation is beyond my ability to fix.
That same basement flooded again this past Tuesday when the derecho blew through, and our power went out (even a brand-new sump pump is useless without power). Our basement flooded again during Thursday night’s downpour (I can’t run our generator when it’s pouring rain outside). But all this weather is beyond my control.
So were the tree limbs of the neighbor’s tree that fell into the parsonage back yard on Tuesday.
And so was the tree limb that fell right on top of the parsonage garage (pictured here).
Had that limb fallen five feet differently, it would have landed on my Buick, and my car would have been toast. But had that limb landed on me, I would have been jelly.
All jokes aside, our situation could be worse. Whether it’s the residents just north of us whose homes were already damaged or destroyed by June 11’s EF-2 tornado, or the Hoosiers who needed to evacuate their homes due to more serious flood conditions, my family’s situation could be far worse.
But my solace today isn’t that “things could always be worse.” Such a sentiment could never be my comfort. You might offer that word of ‘comfort’ to someone who lost their home in these storms, but would you offer that word of ‘comfort’ to a family who lost a loved one in these storms?
No, you wouldn’t. Because “Things could always be worse” isn’t gospel; it isn’t good news.
The same goes for “We’re all in this together.” Don’t misunderstand me: we absolutely need each other right now. But sentiments of solidarity like “We’re all in this together” are about as comforting as “Misery loves company.” And you and I both know that mutual misery isn’t good news.
Think about it: if you were deathly ill and you went to see a doctor, would you ask your doctor to contract the same deathly disease as you? Would you ask your doctor to hop on the hospital bed next to you – and moan and groan in solidarity with you?
I highly doubt it.
No, you want your doctor to know you, your symptoms, and your pain, to care about you, and ultimately to fix the problem.
If powerless people want a real word of good news, we need more than mere solidarity with other powerless people. We need someone outside the camp of our powerlessness to intervene.
This reality was imaged in Crown Point on Thursday. A Crown Point man’s generator exploded while he was refilling it – setting his garage on fire and trapping the man inside. A passerby – seeing the burning garage and this man powerless to save himself – rushed into the burning garage and rescued him.
Such heroic stories of self-sacrifice are beautiful, because they’re swimming downstream from an even greater story of an even greater Someone who has already run headlong into the fire to rescue you.
That Someone is Jesus. He knows. He cares. And he will fix it – just as he already has.
I know, you might think your biggest problems are the water in your basement and the food that’s gone bad in your fridge. But God speaks of a greater powerlessness that dwarfs the electrical powerlessness of an entire county (and that’s not to minimize how hard our lives are without electricity). God speaks of a sin-broken relationship between us and him – and our powerlessness to fix that relationship ourselves. God speaks of a sin-broken world that has been groaning ever since humanity's fall into sin (Romans 8:22), a world that, despite all its beauty, is still undeniably broken – but we are powerless to restore and redeem it to the paradise God originally made and intended it to be.
But what we are powerless to do, God accomplishes with power. When we couldn’t mend the broken relationship between us and God, he, in Christ, did.
This is why the Christian gospel is good news. “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6).
We didn’t need another person to ‘get sick’ with us: we needed a doctor to cure the disease. Jesus – true God from true God – is our brother in suffering, but solidarity in suffering is not what delivers us eternally from sin, death, and the powers of hell. True, to love anything in a sinful, broken world necessitates suffering; but because the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23), love necessitated not just suffering, but sacrifice. God’s loving plan of salvation would intimately entail God suffering and dying.
The Christian gospel doesn’t portray a God indifferent to your plight; ours is a God who took on human flesh and made his dwelling among us (John 1:14). The Christian gospel doesn’t depict a God uncaring towards your suffering. Ours is a God who suffered what we never have so that we never will.
And he did that because he loves you – not just so that your life would have a plan and purpose here and now, but that your life would be spent together with him forever in the new heavens and earth to come. And there, the One who already reigns now in truth and grace will wipe every tear from our eyes (Revelation 7:17). You have a God who has cried your tears and affirms your grief (John 11:35). But you also have a God who is – and always will be – the resurrection and the life (John 11:25). The fiercest winds cannot blow away the forgiveness he has bought for you with his very life. The mightiest flood waters cannot wash away the identity he’s personally given to you in the waters of your baptism. Nothing – absolutely nothing – can separate you from the love of God that is yours in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:37-39).
Our lives have been turned upside down during this summer of storms. But our God is in the business of taking the seemingly irredeemable and redeeming it. Our God takes tremendous bad and transforms it into tremendous good for the eternal good of his people. What resides outside of my control rests in the mighty arms of One infinitely more powerful than me – whose pierced hands bear witness to an unrelenting heart of love – a heart so imminent and eternally gracious, he was willing to suffer and die as one of us – not just beside us, but vicariously for us.
That is where my comfort is.
So, check in on your neighbors. Volunteer with the cleanup. Give to those in need. Clothe yourself with Christlike compassion, patience, and kindness. And pray. Pray for first responders tending to the injured, for every technician restoring our power, and for all our leaders overseeing the relief efforts in NWI.
Most importantly, dear Christian, give people Jesus – because your greatest gift to give right now isn’t merely your solidarity: the greatest gift you have to give right now is your Savior.
Pastor Jeske
P.S. We have power at Our Shepherd! Come hang out with us this Sunday at 9am. Come charge your devices, enjoy community, great people, the best coffee in NWI, and air conditioning – and be encouraged with real good news.
