I see…

I see a video. A black man dies at the hands of police. Others stand there and do nothing. Why doesn’t he stop? Why don’t they stop him? It seems like murder.

I see Minneapolis. My wife’s home neighborhood in flames. Places I have been to dozens of times being destroyed. Is her family safe? Why is this happening? It seems so destructive.

I see protests. People marching peacefully. So many people. I support them. Not just their right to protest, but their protest itself. Black lives do matter. Racism is wrong. If one group of people is systematically being oppressed actively or passively by another that is not even possibly ok. My own guilt creeps in. I’m part of it, aren’t I? I’ve benefited by it, haven’t I? It seems so unfair.

I see another video. A white man dressed up intentionally and methodically smashing windows. Then another showing something similar, then another. Who is trying to incite such violence? Who would do such a thing? It seems so evil.

I see my own city. Peaceful days turn to violent nights. Day after day, night after night. I go to bed seeing and hearing it. I wake up hoping it didn’t get worse. More reports of violence, wrongful arrests, peaceful protests morphed or changed or usurped, more brutality, more looting, more videos, protesters trying to stay true to their message, police trying to do their duty maintaining order at the very protests in which they are being protested against, curfews, fires, outrage. My own fear creeps in. Are we safe? It seems like chaos.

I see so little subtlety. So few attempts to see the context, to truly understand each other. So many extremes. Reaction, after reaction, after reaction. So much division, so many perspectives, so many agendas, so much information, too much information. I want the truth. I want to understand. It seems so hard to find.

I see so many victims. So many who have unfairly suffered loss. So many people feeling unseen, unheard, without a voice, without equality, marginalized by the very society in which they live and to which they contribute. It seems hopeless.

I see my own frustration. Like I’m between a rock and a hard place, like it doesn’t matter what my thoughts are, that one way or another they’ll be criticized or perceived as wrong. My privilege has made me unknowingly complicit in a crime. That’s not fair! My own anger and sense of justice bubble up. How can I be judged so unfairly? How can I be judged according to things beyond my control? Oh. wait. never mind. I think I see now. It’s seems like I’ve had the smallest taste of what it is like.

I pray…

Holy Spirit, Comforter and Guide, help me respond, not react. Help me find clarity in the confusion. Help me be thoughtful, not thoughtless. Help me show compassion, not hate, wisdom and understanding, not foolishness or ignorance, humility, not pride. My fear is to say the wrong thing. My worry is that saying nothing is worse. I bring it all to you. Use my words to build up, not to tear down, to heal, not to harm, to strengthen, not to weaken, to restore, not to divide. Help me be a light, a reflection of your love to this world.

Father, Creator and Preserver, you created life itself. In your perfect creation there was no death. Even after sin entered this world you gave us this life as a blessing, an undeserved time of grace given to us that we might come to know you. It is always a tragedy when someone’s life is taken unjustly. And we grieve. Grant healing to the family of George Floyd. Grant healing to all the cities and communities which have been devastated by violence and destruction. Grant wisdom and compassion to our leaders and those who enforce their orders. Restore and preserve safety in our communities, that we may not be plagued by fear and violence.

Holy God, you are also a God of Righteousness and Justice. When we are harmed and afflicted, may our trust remain in you. Help us not seek to avenge ourselves but to leave it to your wrath, for you declare “Vengeance is mine, I will repay.” Grant a just and lasting resolution for all those who peacefully protest on behalf of the African American community for they “speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.” Grant equality for all those who suffer unjustly as marginalized groups in our world, for you are “close to the brokenhearted and save those who are crushed in spirit.”

Jesus, my Savior, you showed me the meaning of true love. You sacrificed yourself for this undeserving world broken by hatred. You offered forgiveness to the very people who were torturing you and killing you. You won that forgiveness for me too. Forgive me for any attitude of self-righteousness that I have had. Forgive me for when I have selfishly and pridefully dismissed the differing perspectives of others. Forgive me for my blindness in seeing the needs of my neighbor. Open my eyes to all the suffering taking place right in front of me and lead me to act with the same self-sacrificing and gracious love you have shown me. I see so many things happening right now in the world with such heightened emotions. Help me view it all with a heart that has been made tender by your forgiveness, that sees evil for what it is, but that knows that your forgiveness is greater and more powerful than any evil.

Jesus, in you I see hope. I am hopeful from what I see in the responses of others. I see communities uniting to serve, to clean, to provide, and to restore. I see friends uniting and speaking out about what they’ve seen. But the hope I see in you is different. Even as we seek to improve this world, I am confronted face to face with the stark reality that this world will never be as I want to see it, and that what I see will not remain. The hope I have in you is the only thing that will. It is a certain hope of the perfect world that will truly last. And this brings me peace. Help the world see this hope, the only hope that will not fail them, so that they too might have peace.

In Jesus’ name I pray.

Amen.