Poor Turkey.  Unless you've been ignoring the news lately, you are undoubtedly aware of the horrific terrorist attack that occurred at the Ataturk Airport in Istanbul yesterday. In every way, it is tragic:  dozens of lost lives, sense of individual security further undermined, increased mistrust among the peoples of the region, further disagreement about what religion is about, and more.
     For me, the attack hits home in a particularly poignant way.  A few short days ago, my wife and I were at this airport, transferring from a flight from Tirana, Albania, to our flight back to the U.S.  Although we were not at the entrance of the airport, where the attacks occurred, we would surely have been affected by it, as its aura of pain and terror would have rippled across the entire facility.
     So, some might say, God was gracious to you.  He undoubtedly was.  But was God not gracious to the those who lost their lives?  Was God only compassionate and merciful to me and the others who escaped the attack?  At a time like this, can we always say, "But for the grace of God, there go I"?
     Not easily, I hope.  God's grace is far more than chronological circumstance or physical protection.  God is not a slot machine, nor can we measure his goodness by how our lives are going.  God's grace is ubiquitous, comprehensive, and full.  It spans the universe, it penetrates every sector of the cosmos.  We cannot see it, we cannot really understand it. We can only believe it's there, expressing and empowering and loving, manifesting and making known a creator's care in a bent and broken world.
     And that's the point:  infinite grace caught in a finite world.  We marvel, we question, we wonder.  Yet we can do nothing else, really, but believe.