I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
Over 200 people lost their lives in the Ahmedabad plane crash. That number is still echoing in my heart. I didn’t know them, but somehow the weight of it feels close. It was too many, too soon. And while I was grieving from a distance, tragedy came closer to home.
Just 2 kilometers from where I stay in Porur, Chennai, a massive concrete slab fell from the metro rail construction site. It struck a man on the road and ended his life in an instant. No time to prepare. No goodbye. Just sudden silence where life had been moments earlier.
That could have been anyone. That could have been me.
Since then, I’ve seen people posting online. "Life is unpredictable." "It’s all so meaningless." "Nothing matters in the end." I understand those reactions. I’ve had my moments of fear and trembling too. It's normal to feel that way when life’s fragility is exposed. But in my heart, I know that while such thoughts may be common, they are not the appropriate response.
If adversity teaches us that nothing matters, we have misunderstood the lesson. Tragedy is not a signal that life is meaningless. It is a cry for hope. And that hope, for me, is not in the temporary peace of this world, but in the unshakable sovereignty of God.
People often mock that hope. I’ve heard it said many times: "Where is your God now?" "Was He watching when the plane crashed?" "Did He see the concrete fall?" These are not new questions. They were whispered at the foot of the cross too, when Jesus was dying. "If you are the Son of God, come down." Yet He remained. Not because He was powerless, but because He was working out a redemption bigger than anyone could see in that moment.
The God I believe in is not absent from suffering. He is present in it. He was present on that flight. He was present on the road in Porur. He is near to every broken heart and not one tear escapes His notice. That is not a hollow statement. That is the truth I hold onto when the world feels like it’s falling apart.
God doesn’t promise a life without pain. But He promises that none of our pain is wasted. scripture speaks to this clearly:
"And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)
Not all things are good. But all things can be worked into good by a God who sees the full picture. That is why I don’t give in to despair. Not because I am strong, but because He is.
And in moments of deep grief, when words run dry and questions multiply, there is one hymn I find myself returning to: Abide With Me. I looked it up again the moment I heard about the crash and the accident near my home. One line always brings tears to my eyes, not out of fear but from the comfort it brings:
"Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes,
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies."
When we cannot make sense of what is happening, we look to the cross. We look to the One who faced death and overcame it. That is where our peace comes from. Not from safety. Not from control. But from abiding in the One who holds all things together, even when they seem to fall apart.
So while the world says “life is meaningless,” I will say this: life is a gift, and every breath is held by the hands of a loving and sovereign God. That is the appropriate response. Not denial. Not despair. But trust.
He is still in control.