Bleeding, in search of words
The clouds build on the horizon as thunder splits through the serene night sky. You can feel the fear on your skin.
Lord, my world weeps. Where do you find words to comfort those whose loved ones lie bleeding in open city streets? What do you say? Where is the storehouse of language to explain the ache left gaping in the souls of citizens whose trust is riddled with bullets?
What do you say to the friend of the officer who fired the gun? What do you say to the woman who’s son was the sniper on the wall, or the daughter of the woman who drove the get-away car? What words would be fitting to offer the father of each of these, the fathers of the victims and the fathers of the shooters? Where are the words?
Lord, my world is broken. The tension is thick and consuming. We are in desperate need of Your love. It sounds so cliché, so trivial, but I don’t know where else to turn. You have already given and poured out. You have sacrificed and reached across barriers for each and every one of us. From Judas, the betrayer, to Mother Theresa, the great giver – You love. You love across country lines and boundary lines. You reach across oceans and push through attitudes. You poured out for the black, the white, the Indian, the German, the Jew, the Gentile, the infidel, the Muslim, the young, the old. You love. Your blood knows no limit nor condition.
Remind us God. Remind us of You, your love. For there in the dawning of Your empty tomb is peace, hope — life. Remind us that we aren’t color or occupation or even genealogy, we are Yours. And You died to keep us.
May the peace of Your love give us a steady place from which to stand. Help us to steady our minds on the truth of who You are and nothing else. Help us God to keep our eyes on You and less on the trouble crashing at our feet.
There is nothing else that will heal these wounds, nothing. No program. No policy. No sermon. No, God, this hemorrhage can only be remedied by a transfusion of Your blood. No human word can resolve this conflict or ease the horrific pain. We will only find peace through an encounter with You.
“But I’m there to be found,
I’m there for them,
and I, God of Israel,
will not leave them thirsty.
I’ll open up rivers for them
on the barren hills,
spout fountains in the valleys.
I’ll turn the baked-clay badlands
into a cool pond,
the waterless waste into splashing creeks.
I’ll plant the red cedar
in that treeless wasteland,
also acacia, myrtle, and olive.
I’ll place the cypress in the desert,
with plenty of oaks and pines.
Everyone will see this. No one can miss it—
unavoidable, indisputable evidence
That I, God, personally did this.
It’s created and signed
by The Holy of Israel.”
Isaiah 41:17b-20 (MSG)