A young man has been shot dead and millions of mother’s hearts break with the news and the images and we are angry and we ask why as tears well up and we bow our heads low and ask for some kind of comfort for Micahael Brown’s family, and we ask why again and our hands come up empty, because for them, it’s what was is in their hands and for us, it is what’s left in our hearts, and for this one mother in Missouri, it is now what is missing in her heart, a boy that she held and kissed and read to and fed and probably spanked and hoped, how she hoped that he would grow up to be this man who made an impact, who cared for his children, who loved his wife and would occasionally call back home. But that was cut short by gunfire, but hate, by anger and by power and rage that was out of control. What have we done? What can we do?
I don’t have a single answer. I’m sorry. I wish I did.
But I do know what we can do with our hearts, like the tax collector, we can hang our head low and beat our breast and we can say, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
We can, like the blind man, ask, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
We can, like Zacchaeus, put down our pride and our position, do anything to see Jesus and when he sees us back, accept him into our homes, our lives.
We can ask him to change us. We can ask him to use us.
Heavenly Father, we don’t know how to pray, except to ask for your mercy. Hoping that this will encompass it all, the prejudice, the hate, the self-righteousness and the pride that resides in our own heart. Give us strength to keep your greatest commandment. Amen.
You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me. Luke 18:22