Reflections on the Wedgwood Shooting 17 Years Later

Today is the 17th anniversary of the shootings at Wedgwood Baptist Church in Ft. Worth. I shared these thoughts on social media two years ago on this date. 

     Fifteen years ago today a man entered our church in Texas with two guns and a pipe bomb. By the time he was finished, he had killed seven people and himself and wounded seven others. This is just a bit of personal reflection on that night.

     That week, Kim and I were already in the midst of a very difficult time in our lives. Our son Josh (16 months old) was dealing with a brain tumor and we were preparing for a new treatment plan that would require us to relocate to Memphis for at least six weeks. We had made arrangements with our landlord, employers, and my school to be away, and in tears had bid the wonderful Sunday School class I co-taught goodbye. We were expecting a final phone call from Memphis that week informing us of our appointment time and telling us to head that way. We were waiting, we were hurting, we were scared, and we were praying. 

     We did not think we would still be in Ft. Worth by Wednesday of that week, but we were. Like always, we attended Wednesday evening services at Wedgwood. However, several things were different that evening. For one, Kim and I were sitting together in the adult prayer service. Kim usually had responsibilities with the children’s ministry at church on Wednesdays and I usually attended the service without her. That night Kim and I attended the service together. The service had been moved to a different room in the church because there was a youth concert and rally taking place in the worship center celebrating “See You at the Pole,” which had taken place that morning. Our pastor, who usually led the service, was not there. He was at home having just returned from his childhood home in Michigan because of the death of his mother. Our son was in the church nursery.

     As our guest speaker was teaching that evening, we heard several loud bangs coming from outside of the room. I thought they were related to ongoing construction that was underway at our church. Then from the hallway outside our room, I heard our staff counselor ask someone to help him because he had been shot. He had to ask the person twice, saying, “Really, I’ve been shot.” Upon hearing these words, the service came to an abrupt end as people began trying to figure out where to go or what to do. The shooting was taking place in a hallway around the corner from the room where we were meeting. Kim and I looked at each other and I told her that I thought I needed to go help. She insisted that the most important thing for us was to go get our son on the other end of the property. She prevailed. We made our way to the preschool area of our church where we joined our son and other children and volunteers and hid in the classroom. 

     Eventually, emergency personnel arrived and directed us to go to the elementary school across the street from the church. When we were allowed to leave, we were unable to retrieve our car as the entire area was roped off as a crime scene. There were innumerable emergency vehicles and personnel on the scene, and lots and lots of people. We called our friends and asked if they would pick us up, and they did. 

     I never saw the gunman; I only heard a few of his shots. With the shots I heard, he took the lives of people that we knew. As we fled to find our son, he entered the worship center where over 400 teenagers were attending a concert. As the students hid under the pews, many thought it was a skit and stood to taunt the gunman. Some lost their lives. As terrible as the event was, it could have been much worse. He could have killed more people. His pipe bomb could have exploded toward people rather than away. An unlikely young man stood to confront the gunman with truth prompting him to turn the gun on himself and end the killing spree. 

     Fifteen years later, the event still stands as an unexplained, senseless act of evil. The gunman had no connection to our church or anyone in attendance. He was not operating in his right mind at the time as evidenced by the destruction he had done to his own home before coming to our church that evening. The evil one had somehow prompted this man to do the things he did. Fifteen years later, those who lost their loved ones still live with their loss. Those who were there still live with their memories and various issues resulting from that traumatic event. My wife still does not like to sit where she cannot see the door.

     Yet, God proved Himself faithful that evening, as He always does. In the midst of this terrible evil, there are more “God stories” than I could possibly recount. God took that which was evil and used it for good. As a result of the event, the gospel was heard by thousands with many responding in faith. Because one of the victims was the daughter of an American worker in Saudi Arabia, the media broadcasted the memorial service in Saudi Arabia where many heard the gospel, perhaps for the first time. Many turned to the Lord with their hurt and confusion and found healing grace. As we walked through despair, our dependence on the Lord grew. 

     I am not sure if fifteen years has provided me with any additional perspective on the event. I am just thankful that for whatever reason, God protected our family. I am praying today for the families of those who lost their loved ones on this day fifteen years ago and for those who still deal with various issues resulting from the trauma that night. I am thankful for a God who can pick up the broken pieces of our lives and still use them for His glory.

For more information on the shooting at Wedgwood: 

http://www.wedgwoodbc.org/joyful-relationships/meet-wedgwood/wedgwood-shooting/