My heart is heavy with the weight of the hate and darkness that plays out in this world. The shootings in Atlanta and in Boulder bring me back to the reason I started writing publicly about compassion. In the sadness and anger and frustration it is easy to throw up our hands and scream “not again! Why! What’s the point?” It is easier to shut it all out and turn away.
Stronger than my shouting is Jesus’ voice saying, “do not be afraid. I am with you.”
Stronger than my desire to ignore what has happened is the purpose in which I am created as God’s beloved, the purpose in which WE ARE ALL created as God’s beloved.
And so I cry, grieving over the loss of precious life.
I cry for the people, human beings – mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends – God’s beloved who have died at the hands of others.
I cry for the families of these people who have so much loss to bear.
I cry for the individuals who carried out these crimes in their brokenness.
I cry for the brokenness of this world that teaches and enables the idea that taking a life is the solution to any problem.
And I pray.
I pray that I may be God’s light of Love to each person I encounter this day.
I pray that others may taste the goodness of God through my actions and behaviors and habits.
I pray that the words I write will teach and enable us to be more compassionate, to see as Jesus sees, to love as God loves.
I pray that you know you are God’s beloved, that you are precious, that you matter.
And so, for today on our Lenten Journey, crying and praying are enough.
In our lament, we learn compassion.
In our lament we feel God’s tender strength holding our pain and our tears.
In our lament we are equipped to love.