Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Elie Wiesel wrote that, in his astonishing memoir Night. He survived the Holocaust, and he later wrote about how his faith was consumed by flames. Who can blame him? He, and millions like him, cried out to God in the ghettos, the box cars, the gas chambers. They called out for mercy, justice, retribution. Was God listening? Perhaps. It’s a common theme. Atrocities and disasters take place, and we often wonder. We wonder if God was in Windows on the World on September... Read More