The morning was just like every other Sunday—aside from the end of Daylight Savings Time and the extra early wakening of children.

Just like every other Sunday, I went to church today. Many if not most of you went to church today. Some may have gone to a large church, but most, like me, probably attended a small church.

Just like every other Sunday, I woke, showered, fed everyone breakfast, combed hair, washed faces, packed a diaper bag.

Just like every other Sunday, my family drove to our little town to go to our little church with our friends, relatives, and neighbors.

Just like every other Sunday, we sang. We prayed. We laughed. We listened.

Just like every other Sunday, we shook hands and gave hugs on our way out the door.

But it wasn’t that way for everyone.

Just like every other Sunday the moms in Sutherland Springs, Texas woke, showered, fed their families, combed hair, washed faces, packed diaper bags.

Just like every other Sunday, families drove to attend their little church in their little town with their friends, relatives, and neighbors.

Just like every other Sunday, the congregation gathered to worship.

But one man filled with evil and hatred changed everything for the entire community when he opened fire on the congregation of the First Baptist Church, a place he reportedly had no connection to. In the blink of an eye, his actions brought grief where there had been rejoicing. From that instant, this Sunday was no longer like any other Sunday ever before for the people of the little Texas town. The lives of innocent people were taken while they worshipped. Others were injured. Not even the children were spared harm.

Words cannot begin to describe the tragedy. I’m a writer. I’m supposed to have the perfect words for every situation. But when it comes to situations of utter loss and devastation, I draw a blank. My mind just keeps going into momma mode and thinking, “That could have been my church where I was sitting with my little girl, where my boys were in the nursery. That could have been my church.” I’m sure that thought has crossed many a person’s mind today.

Are even our Sunday morning worship times no longer safe?

Oh how Satan would love to convince us it is safer to stay at home than to attend church. How he would love to rob the benefits of corporate worship from us!

But we cannot let him win.

We cannot afford to let evil scare us into hiding.

We cannot spread light in the world if we keep our light hidden.

We cannot bring change if we stay locked inside our homes afraid to venture out.

To bring change, we must go on. We must go on for the ones who had that option taken from them.

We must fight evil with love.

We must fight darkness with light.

We must go on.

Next Sunday, we will go on. We will go the church just like every other Sunday, all the while praying for those whose Sundays will never be the same. But we will go on.

Amy Juett

Amy is a child of God and a native of the Nebraska Sandhills. She married her sweetheart while still in college. After moving seven times in their first eight years of marriage, they have (God-willing) moved for the last time and are putting down roots in her grandparents’ home only two miles from where she grew up. Her days are filled with all the joys and challenges that come with a house full of young children. When she isn’t immersed in piles of laundry and other messes young children make, Amy enjoys experimenting in the kitchen, doing crafty projects, reading, writing, dabbling in photography, participating in the family adventures her husband dreams up, and sitting in silence.