The photo is horrifying because we know what is going to happen.  On Monday, April 15, eight-year-old Martin Richard stands behind the metal crowd barrier looking out at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, watching for his dad.  Beside him, standing on the rail is his younger sister, and behind him is his mom.

A day or two before, the family cheered when his front tooth came out.  Now they are preparing to cheer as Martin’s dad crosses the finish line   This is a fine day.

But not five feet away the photo shows a knapsack, leaning against the barrier, harmless looking.  Someone has set it down for a moment.  No one notices.  All eyes are on the race.

The person who set it down is captured by the eye of the camera.  He is directly behind the Martins, striding away, in profile, head high, white baseball cap turned backwards, as is the style.  Just a normal-looking young man, enjoying Boston’s annual party.  We want to scream a warning, but our voice is mute.

“Look! Here comes Dad!”  William Martin crosses the line, a quick wave, but he keeps going.  Cool down.  Catch your breath.  And then, hell itself explodes, and Martin is down, never to say, “Way to go, Dad!”  His sister’s leg is in shreds.  His mom is on the ground, grievously wounded.  The littlest sister is screaming.

Sudden death and violence is nothing new in the history of the human race. But in America for nearly five generations, we have come to think that we are somehow immune.  We have been lulled into presuming peace, at least here, at least in our garden.  But now something evil has slithered into our cities, skulking through our streets.  And we are rudely compelled to face what the rest of the world knows all too well: We live precariously in a war zone. 

Sometimes only a matter of a few seconds determines what befalls us.  If we begin pondering that too much, we succumb to the terrorist’s cunning ploy: Look over your shoulder, live with fear.  David understood the temptation to paranoia.  He prayed in Psalm 64, “Preserve my life from dread of the enemy.  Hide me from the secret plots of the wicked.” (v 1-2)  David’s appeal is to God who directs our steps, who orders the path a man takes.

 A friend of mine was in Boston to watch a relative run.  She was a block from finishing when the bomb exploded.  Had she been thirty seconds faster she’d have been in the middle of it.  Some days God makes you slow, or fast.  I know of a man who fell asleep on the New York subway and missed his stop on 9-11.

We need not fear, David says.  God does not guarantee that we will slip through life unscathed.  This world is not that kind of place.  But he says to us, “Let the righteous one rejoice in the Lord and take refuge in him!  Let all the upright in heart rejoice.” (v 10)  If God is our refuge, we rejoice--not because we are heedless of danger or religiously idiotic.  We rejoice because he is a God who sees the bomber plant his pack, and who, if he wills, can steer our course away.

Dr. Rick Perrin is Chairman of the Board of WRF and senior pastor of Covenant Presbyterian Church in Cherry Hill NJ.  He writes a weekly blog called ReTHINK which may be accessed at www.rethinkingnews.wordpress.com. He may be contacted at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..