Texas town turns inward in wake of shooting

Surviving church members seek solace in their faith

SUTHERLAND SPRINGS, Texas — The people of Sutherland Springs have not held news conferences, they haven’t made appearances on network morning television shows, and while they’ve been polite to the media, they’re not exactly forthcoming. Instead, this rural community is turning to the one thing that has buoyed them in good times, and sustains them now: an unshakeable faith in God.

David Colbath, one of 20 people who were injured but survived Devin Patrick Kelley’s rampage at the First Baptist Church, held Bible study from his hospital bed. Judy Green, a church member who avoided the carnage because she and her husband were running an errand, sought counseling at another church because of what she saw when she drove up to the building that day. Crystal Barkley, a Sutherland Springs resident who doesn’t even attend the church, prayed and “stayed at home for a couple of days, collecting strength.”

There have been no fewer than three prayer vigils for the victims. One, held Wednesday and attended by Vice President Mike Pence, was so large that it had to be held in the neighboring town’s football stadium. Today the town will gather for church services in its community center, which is next door to the church. Residents have included reporters in impromptu prayer circles and have tried, quietly, to let the world know that it is a Godloving town, not a place of violence.

“We want to be known for more than this,” sighed Tambria Read, president of the local historical museum, schoolteacher and lifelong resident. “We are not a shoot-’em-up community.”

It’s difficult to put into words what happens to a place after a mass shooting, and each has its own way of dealing with the horror. In big cities like Orlando and Las Vegas, it was possible for those not directly affected to mourn and move on.. In Sutherland Springs, there’s been no escaping Sunday morning’s shooting, which left 26 dead. Every resident in town knew at least one person who was killed, and most knew several.

“It’s a good, simple community,” said Rod Green, Judy’s husband.

By the time Green and his wife arrived at the church, police and first responders were there. There were wounded people in the parking lot. The Greens tried to comfort the wounded, while ambulances crisscrossed the road outside. Helicopters landed nearby to fly the critically wounded to hospitals.

“I saw a lot of stuff in Vietnam, and I never expected to see that type of thing here,” he said.

And now there are outsiders in Sutherland Springs, who stick out by virtue of the fact that they’re asking questions during a time when people are pleading for answers from God.

It’s difficult for any community that’s been blindsided by sudden horror to cope with grieving in the public eye. But for Sutherland Springs, population 600, it’s been a particular challenge for several reasons — not the least of which is the fact that it’s set in rural Texas, a stoic and insular place.

Scores of media trucks, vans and cars have hunkered down at the town’s one major intersection (there are no stoplights here, only a flashing yellow). Anchormen did live shots near a flower-covered cross nailed to a post, while across the street, chaplains stood in a prayer circle next to a Frito-Lay truck in a gas station parking lot.

Tambria Read, the teacher, says the presence of the media has put a certain pressure on the town, one it just isn’t used to. Live satellite trucks hum in the middle of town day and night, and white-hot lights illuminate the faces of the cable news hosts.

“Did you look to the east sky and see the full moon this week?” she said. “The media’s lights have ruined the night sky.”