In December 2006 I was drawn into the tragedy of three missing climbers on Mount Hood because one of them, Kelly James, was the brother of beloved professor and friend, Frank James (then president of RTS-Orlando, now provost of Gordon-Conwell). Frank and Carolyn are friends and comrades in the gospel, and I fervently prayed that the Lord would rescue Frank's brother and the other two climbers.

The Lord didn't rescue them, so all who loved the missing climbers grieved.

This morning, while sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office, I saw the headline news on TV. More missing climbers on Mt. Hood, one found dead.

I wondered if Frank or another survivor would write something in light of the news. Frank did. Read this piercing post about his grief over his brother Kelly that he shares with more families this year.

Excerpt:

I don’t exactly know what this will mean for each one. For me, it has meant that I can shout out loud my frustrations and even say things I don’t really mean; I can weep quietly in my bed in the middle of the night; I can look up into the sky, stretch out my arms and ask why? In all of this anguish, God was present even when I felt alone. I don’t understand this paradox: how I can feel so alone and yet sense in my bones that God is near? David describes much the same experience in Psalm 10. David cries out in verse 1: “Why, O Lord do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” But then David declares unequivocally in verse 17: “You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry.” It is a mystery—somehow both are true at the same time.

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As for me, I'm praying for Frank and Carolyn and the families of the 2006 and 2009 families who lost loved ones to Mount hood. Lord, have mercy.