In Which I Hate

I see bombs going off, clouds of fire rising over a town, and I hate the brokenness of this world.  

I see women devalued and shamed, children murdered, and I hate the pain of life that can so easily be weighed down with darkness.

I see a sermon topic of parenting after divorce and I hate this sin-disease infecting all hearts which leads to the necessity of such a lesson.

I see my girls’ faces after I have yelled ugliness and I hate the struggle that wars inside of me.

I want this all to end. I want our world and our hearts to be healed and made perfect.

Yet I think about Joseph and about Daniel, stories that tell about ugly, horrible things that turn out to be part of God’s overarching, glorious plan.

If I could, I would convince God that He should come back right now and make everything right again.

Yet deep down, I know that God does have purposes and He does have plans, and I trust what He is about.

Sometimes, though, it is difficult to raise my eyes above the fray. I hate this sin that has broken our hearts and our world with such passion that it is difficult to look away.

My heart is divided between hope and despair.

What do I do?

I could sit and fix my eyes on the ugly squalor of the sin and brokenness and fall quickly into despondency.

Or.

I could stand and fix my eyes on Him who has already begun the healing by His blood.

I could raise my hands in awe of One who could change all with a word and yet allows us, instead, to help in the restoration.

I could ask God’s Spirit to show me ways to hasten the healing of our world.

So I open my arms and hold my family close. I roll up my sleeves and look for ways to work.

Just as these did:

(click on the photograph to read about some who responded to horror with courageous mercy)