Cable car crash in Lisbon kills 17, injures 21 others

A cable car known as a “funicular” crashed on Wednesday in Lisbon, Portugal, killing at least seventeen people and injuring twenty-one others. The yellow tram carried people up and down a steep hillside in the Portuguese capital; footage showed its mangled wreckage lying where it left the track and hit a building.

A cable hauls the line’s two cars, with traction provided by electric motors on the cars that counterbalance each other. The cable apparently snapped, causing the car coming down the 265-meter slope to lose its ability to brake. It then derailed on a turn, crashing into a corner building. Authorities are investigating the cause of the crash at this writing.

When I read this terrible news, my first response, of course, was to pray for the survivors and their families, asking God to give them his strength, healing, and peace. My second was to reflect on this tragedy as a parable that relates to all of us, whatever “cable car” we’re riding today.

Trusting the chair in which we sit

I have never been to Lisbon, but I have boarded similar cable cars in other cities around the world. Many transported me at heights or speeds that would have killed me if they had malfunctioned.

Even if I had stopped to investigate their trustworthiness before boarding, I’m not sure how I could have done so. I could have consulted the maintenance crews, but since I’m not a structural engineer or mechanic, I would have needed to trust their opinions. Even if I had obtained the necessary training to do their jobs, I would have needed to inspect every part and factor related to the operation of the cable car at the moment we trusted them with our lives.

All this to say, it is impossible to live in a fallen world without some level of trust that transcends our knowledge and verification. It has always been so: people even in biblical times trusted the structures they built for shelter, the weapons they used in war, the implements they employed at work, and the people with whom they lived.

You are exhibiting such trust right now in your present circumstances. If you’re sitting in a chair, did you test its load-bearing strength before trusting it? Did you test the quality of the air you’re breathing for contaminants? Did you test the structural integrity of the room in which you’re dwelling or the vehicle in which you’re riding? Did you test the purity of the last food you ate or beverage you drank?

It is hard to imagine living this way for an hour or even a minute. And the most important dimensions of our lives are beyond such verification. As Alfred Lord Tennyson observed, “Nothing worthy proving can be proven.”

“Open his eyes that he may see”

As I noted in my Daily Article today, evidence must be interpreted and may not be compelling. For example, we read in Revelation 9 that even after angels brought massive judgments against sinners who rebelled against God and his word,

The rest of mankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands nor give up worshiping demons and idols of gold and silver and bronze and stone and wood, which cannot see or hear or walk, nor did they repent of their murders or their sorceries or their sexual immorality or their thefts (vv. 20–21).

In addition, the chapter reminds us that there is often more to the story than we can see and measure at the time. The angels bringing divine judgment against rebellious humanity waged war against a massive enemy: “The number of mounted troops was twice ten thousand times ten thousand” (v. 16), which equates to two hundred million. However, they paled in significance compared to those worshiping God at that very moment:

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Revelation 7:9–10).

I am reminded of the Syrian army that sought to find and kill the prophet Elisha, at one point surrounding him with “horses and chariots” that were “all around the city” (2 Kings 6:15a). The prophet’s servant was terrified and cried out, “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” (v. 15b). Elisha replied, “Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them” (v. 16).

Then he prayed, “O Lᴏʀᴅ, please open his eyes that he may see” (v. 17a). In response, “the Lᴏʀᴅ opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (v. 17b). The Lord then struck the Syrian army with blindness at the request of Elisha (v. 18), and the prophet resolved the crisis peacefully (vv. 19–23).

“The steadfast love of the Lᴏʀᴅ never ceases”

Of course, we already knew that our God’s omnipresence is more present than we can verify, and his omnipotence is more powerful than we can measure. But even knowing what we know about God’s presence and power, we are still prone to question his character when we face suffering he could have prevented.

For example, the writer of Lamentations spoke for many of us in responding to the destruction of Jerusalem when he complained that God “has walled me about so that I cannot escape; he has made my chains heavy; though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayer” (Lamentations 3:7–8).

This was not true, but it felt true to the writer voicing his lament. He responded, “My endurance has perished; so has my hope from the Lᴏʀᴅ” (v. 18).

Then came the pivot. When the writer remembered what God had done in the past, he found hope to trust him in the present, writing some of the most famous and encouraging words in Scripture:

The steadfast love of the Lᴏʀᴅ never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lᴏʀᴅ is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

The Lᴏʀᴅ is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lᴏʀᴅ (vv. 22–26).

As he remembered what God had done in the past, he found the faith to trust him for what he would do in the present and to glorify him for his faithfulness.

“As thou hast been, thou forever wilt be”

I cannot know what “cable car” you’re trusting today or what challenges you’re facing. But I can encourage you—and myself with you—to remember that our Father feels all we feel, grieves as we grieve, and rejoices as we rejoice. Because Jesus’ love is unchanging (Hebrews 13:8), he loves us as much right now as when he died for us on our cross.

This fact offers hope to those suffering in Lisbon and to your soul and mine today.

Thomas Chisholm was born in a log cabin in Kentucky in 1866. He worked as a school teacher, newspaper editor, and insurance agent before retiring to the Methodist Home for the Aged in New Jersey.

He wrote, “My income has not been large at any time due to impaired health in the earlier years which has followed me on until now.” However, he discovered across his journey that his Lord had been faithful in every moment and responded with a hymn that has been sung by generations of grateful Christians. It begins:

Great is thy faithfulness, O God, my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with thee.

Thou changest not, thy compassions, they fail not;

As thou hast been, thou forever wilt be.

Would you make his words your prayer today?