In the news, we come across tragic stories everyday. It’s the nature of the business, the beast. It’s our job to share those stories and their impact. We’re not spreading depressing information, but letting those involved know that we know it mattered to them and others should be aware. We share the struggle. We show the rebuilding. We’re able to do this by detaching ourselves from story, by setting ourselves aside and relaying the facts. Sadly, it’s easy to become callous, to talk about unspeakable crimes without them affecting me. Because it’s my job.
But that’s not the case today. This one is personal. You came into my house. You hurt my family. You hurt my viewers. You calculated how to do the most damage, waited for a live broadcast to attack two individuals and in the process assaulted thousands across the country.
My heart is heavy because I know the power of television. I can’t begin to imagine the chaos in that newsroom, on that set, when gunshots rang out. I take that back. I can. That explains the lump in my throat and the feeling that I was just punched in the stomach.
My consolation rests in the fact that I have a more powerful God who comforts those who are hurting.
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV