Half my friends are mad at half my friends who are mad at them.
And you and I both know that mad isn’t the right word. But frustrated. And concerned and critical and annoyed.
They have been getting that way for months.
They’ve been listening to news reports and opinions. They’ve been reducing each other to elevator pitches, one sentence that sums up everything sufficiently to abandon relationships. And respect. And love which you said even extends to our enemies.
And I haven’t been able to help them, because I’ve been watching half my friends walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
God, we need you.
We need your help to remember to yield our hearts to you. We need your help to remember that your control of all things includes our involvement in the work you have called us to, and that work includes loving enemies and caring for widows and orphans and forgiving our brother and sister over and over again, and comforting those who mourn and choosing to serve you more than serving idols.
Help us see our idols.
Help us serve you.
We ask in the name of the one who served us to the death and back.
Reflecting, in part, Joshua 24.