We are weary of the headlines,
the sharpened tongues,
the hands clenched tight around old grievances.
We are tired of fire being met with fire
and every heart becoming a furnace
where mercy used to dwell.
O Jesus,
who wept over a city that would not listen,
who touched lepers no one else would see,
who bled while asking forgiveness for His killers,
teach us again
what love looks like with skin on.
The night feels thick with hatred,
like the ache of creation groaning,
as nations forget their names,
and people forget their souls.
Father,
rescue us from the sickness
of becoming what we fear.
Let us not mirror the malice
we claim to despise.
Let us not trade the radiant Kingdom
for the bitter thrones of vengeance.
May we learn again
how to wash the feet of those who mock us.
How to bless when cursed.
How to break bread with Judas
and still call him “friend.”
For You, Christ,
You didn’t come wielding a sword of iron,
but a heart broken open,
a Lamb leading lions back home.
Teach us how to bleed without bitterness,
to speak truth without venom,
to stand firm without raising fists.
Let Your mercy be the map.
Let Your grace be the grammar
of our every conversation.
Hold the world like a prodigal son
whose rage hides sorrow,
whose violence is a cry for home.
And send us, wounded, willing, weak,
as living parables
of the cross-shaped love
that still saves sinners.
Amen.
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This is a beautiful reminder that love looks different than the world expects: patient, merciful, and willing to reach even those who hurt us. Thank you for putting words to what so many of us feel but struggle to express sometimes.