[NB: Sometimes I think about writing short epistolary-style letters but then never do it. Well, I did it this time. I've thought very little about the content of this letter. I won't edit it apart from fixing typos. It was tough to write. -- RWB]

Rick, who is far removed from current events;

To those in Virginia who are far closer;

Greetings, and peace.

I feel compelled to write this letter, but I have no idea what to say. Anything remotely comforting sounds too trite to be worth saying at all. I could speak of the greatness of God (and He is great) but this is not what your soul longs to hear in your confusion and grief. I could speak of the compassion of God (for He is compassionate) but you likely feel as if He is the least compassionate one at this present time of loss.

Words fall short. Grief and longing for the lost cannot be soothed with well-polished words; it is your soul that cries out for comfort, understanding and recompense.

But there is no recompense, there is only loss.

I find comfort in knowing that it is not ours to avenge, and that healing comes not from avenging but from forgiving. If you seek recompense, you will never be healed. You will only grow bitter, hard and gnarled.

We are all properly deserving of vengeance. Somewhere, somehow, we have wronged others and there may be those that desire to mete their vengeance out upon us. Most of all, we have wronged our God. He is holiness embodied; we (each and every one of us) have bent His image, the image we were created in, beyond all recognition. It is scarcely possible to see His image in anyone.

But there was one who walked the earth long ago -- nearly 2000 years ago -- who exuded holiness from his very being. The image could be seen clearly in him because He was God, and he was man. He lived perfectly and died unjustly.

If any death was ever worthy of vengeance, it was his. Yet it was the path he chose so that through his death he would take upon himself our sin and corruption -- the bent-ness of our very being -- to rid us of that burden. And he died, burying that bent-ness in death that we might be reclaimed to live freely, passionately and uprightly in his name.

God still metes out His vengeance, though the vengeance we so rightly deserve has been heaped upon that one, 2000 years ago, who stood in our stead.

I know this likely does not offer you comfort in your grief. But know that your bent-ness, the corruption of your very being, was borne by that same one, 2000 years ago.

Perhaps those whom you're missing today knew this and lived their reclaimed lives in the name of the one who bore the bent-ness and corruption. Perhaps the one you are missing is truly free today, with him in Glory. Still missed by loved ones, yes. But with him in Glory.

Then again, perhaps the one whom you're missing today did not know or profess this truth. Mourn your loved one, but consider him who bore our corruption and bent-ness before the one worthy of meting out vengeance. Consider his death and his resurrection and victory over that death. And consider if you will live a reclaimed life, upright in his name.

These may not be comforting thoughts, but these are not comforting times.

May the God of comfort give you peace in your mourning.

Grace be with you all.