Even though I am a visual learner, I still love words. Words hold power. They can hurt, but they can also heal. And yet, despite their power, words often fall short.

I am not alone in feeling that words fell short this past week when we tried to respond to the shootings at Virginia Tech. For those of us who tried to use them to heal, to comfort, to express sympathy and remorse, they fell short. For those of us who tried to use them to explain, to understand, to analyze the situation, they fell short.

And so everytime I sat at this desk and tried to write something in response to the events of this past week, words failed me. One of my favorite biblical authors, the writer of the book of Ecclesiastes, has put it well: "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: ...a time to keep silence, and a time to speak" (Ecclesiastes 3:1,7b).

For me, this past week was a time to keep silence. I am fully aware that words still fail me this week, but words are all I have. And for now, all I feel that I can say is that 33 people died on April 16, 2007, that one of those 33 people killed the other 32, and that death sucks.

I do not at this time have words to heal or to comfort. I do not yet (and never intend to) have words that explain or understand what happened (or, for that matter, what happens every day in America and in other parts of the world when death comes prematurely to so many innocent people). So in using the limited words, the limiting words, with which I am left, I continue to keep a sort of silence. It is the season for such a silence, one that will eventually give way to a time to speak more fully. But words cannot be forced. They come when they are ready. And so until then, I hope my silence says at least in part what I have not yet found the words to say.