Light Through the Rubble

When the earthquake struck southern Turkey in February 2023, thousands found themselves trapped beneath collapsed apartment buildings. In the pitch darkness under tons of concrete, survivors did the only thing they could — they cried out.

Rescue teams reported the same pattern again and again. Survivors tapped on pipes, shouted until their voices gave out, then fell silent — not from giving up, but from sheer exhaustion. Some clutched phones with dead batteries, their last messages reading simply: "I'm here. Please come."

Then the moment would arrive. A crack of light through the rubble. A face appearing above — dust-covered, headlamp blazing — eyes filled with fierce compassion. Survivors described that instant as the most overwhelming of their lives. Not the rescue itself, but the face. Someone had come.

That is the cry of Psalm 80. Israel is buried beneath the weight of exile and sorrow, choking on what the psalmist calls "the bread of tears." Three times the refrain rises like a voice from the rubble: "Restore us, O God; make Your face shine on us, that we may be saved."

The psalm doesn't end with a theological argument. It ends with a plea both desperate and beautiful: Turn back to us. Let Your hand rest upon us. Revive us. We are still here.

And the good news of the gospel is this: He came. In Christ, the face of God broke through the rubble of our ruin — shining not with a headlamp, but with resurrection light.