We were watching The Titan Games premiere last night when the news broke in with a special report. Our kids groaned and my husband quickly corrected them. “This is important,” he said. I reminded them that the show is accessible the next day. Just because we were missing something doesn’t mean we had missed it forever.
Lester Holt reported on protests and riots in cities across the nation, gatherings focused on the murder of George Floyd, a black man who was killed while in the custody of police, even after he begged for his life. “I can’t breathe,” he said as an officer knelt on his neck. I haven’t seen the video. Just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes.
For more than an hour, Phil and I watched the news reports. From California to Philadelphia. It was the most I had allowed myself to engage with the news, not because I don’t care but because I have a tendency to absorb all the hurt and suffering and pain into myself. I have to take the news in small, intentional doses and even though watching the news on Sunday night wasn’t my intention, I needed to see.
I went to sleep with images in my mind of a world on fire. In one city, the crowd emptied a trash can in the middle of the street and set it on fire. In another, people ran into shops whose windows had been broken, carrying out goods they didn’t pay for. In many cities, police were dressed in riot gear, armored trucks blocking off city streets. In one city, a woman screamed in the face of a police officer, trying to get him to react.
It’s just so sad. All of it.
And I don’t know what to say except the only prayer that makes sense:
“Come, Lord Jesus.”
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“Come, Lord Jesus.”
I used to pray those words wishing that God would intervene in a world gone bad, that He would step in with something akin to a cosmic magic eraser and undo all the things we’d done wrong. “Come, Lord Jesus” was a plea of escape: Rescue us from this mess we’ve made.
Now, though, I see it differently. When I pray “Come, Lord Jesus,” it’s an invitation for God to step in, but not to make it all magically go away. Instead, it makes me think of one of the most familiar prayers of Christianity. When people asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he included these words: “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven.”
To me, “Come, Lord Jesus,” is a plea for the earth to become more like heaven, like the world God intended. It is a prayer for the world to look more healed and whole than it does now. And I know that that doesn’t happen without human help.
When I pray, “Come, Lord Jesus,” I’m asking God to come with me. I’m asking for His help to do what needs to be done. Because if His will is to be done on the earth as it is in heaven, it’s going to involve me. And you. And all of us.
I believe, in some way, God made the world. And I believe, in most ways, we humans have unmade it. And while I believe God could wipe it all out and start over, or miraculously make it all better, I don’t believe that’s the way it’s going to work. It is us, the ones whose feet walk the earth, who will make the kind of world we want to live in.
Come, Lord Jesus.
To me, it’s a prayer of belief in a better world.
And the catalyst for change.
I don’t always know what to do, but doing nothing is not an option. Praying for escape is not an option.
Today, I am watching. Listening. Speaking when I can. Listening some more. Weeping with those who weep. Acknowledging the suffering.
It is literally the least I can do.
If you also don’t know what to do, let’s start there, okay?
Refuse to sit this one out, especially if you’re white.
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