Dancing on the Rubble

On May 22, 2011, a mile-wide tornado carved through Joplin, Missouri, killing 158 people and leveling entire neighborhoods in minutes. Among the wreckage stood what remained of St. Mary's Catholic Church — walls sheared off, pews scattered across parking lots, the sanctuary open to the sky.

The following Sunday, pastor Justin Monaghan did something no one expected. He set up folding chairs in the debris field where the altar had been and held worship anyway. Congregants arrived in borrowed clothes, some still bandaged. They had lost homes, businesses, loved ones. One family had buried their daughter just two days before.

And they sang.

Not polished hymns with a pipe organ — just raw, cracked voices rising from the rubble. A guitarist played with blistered fingers. An elderly woman lifted her hands in praise while standing on the cracked foundation of the only church she had ever known.

That is the faith Habakkuk described. Not a faith that denies the devastation — the fig trees are bare, the fields are empty, and the stalls hold nothing. It is a faith that looks squarely at the wreckage and says, "Yet I will rejoice in the Lord." The prophet did not praise God because circumstances improved. He praised God because God Himself had not changed. The Sovereign Lord remained his strength, giving him the sure footing of a deer on the heights — even when the ground beneath him had been torn away.