I had a post ready to write about Father’s day today. After the Charleston shooting my head isn’t in it.
My heart is so heavy.
Other mothers are nearby laughing and sharing stories. I sit at a nearby table under an umbrella and tears pour down my face hidden by my oversize sunglasses. I wipe my tears away quickly, but I don’t care if anyone sees me crying. My heart is overwhelmed and the only release is through tears.
The opposite of love is not hate.
The opposite of love is fear.
And fear births anger and anger births hate and hate shatters the soul.
I remember that I am deeply loved and the Lord fights for me…for us all.
But the mind is a battleground. And we wonder why healing is so hard. Warfare is brutal and healing takes time and the scars sometimes don’t fade.
The bandages are ripped off time and time again and the wounds they bleed something fierce.
“But I want one!” she cries out indignantly. Arms crossed and head down, she stomps her little foot and pouts. She is precious to me, even in her selfishness and sin. She is angry that I don’t have what she wants. She is crying because I didn’t provide what all the others seem to have and she wants what she want and she wants it now.
I call her over to me. She slowly drags her feet.
I look into her eyes and gently, but sternly correct her attitude.
“We don’t act that way,” I say to her downcast face. “You are being selfish and not thankful for what you have and we need to pray that God changes your heart.”
She’s off again, playing and laughing.
I think of how much I love that little girl.
How much more does God love us?
Us who are so full of hate.
Us who are proud.
He loves us so. He so loved us that He gave His son. To die. For this world. This world that scoffs at Him. This world that beheads his believers. This world that takes his very name in vain so casually and carelessly. This world that aborts innocent babies. This world that fights brother against brother because of the color of their skin. This world that murders believers praying in His church.
We are not grateful for your Son, we are spoiled.
Spoiled and wretched sinners.
We are so full of the stuff of this world. The stuff that is so meaningless and empty. We are not hungry for you. We are not humble, but proud.
Heal our land. This dry and weary land.
Heal our hearts. Fill us with your love.
Help us to recognize that we need you. We are desperate.