Again?

I don’t think I have ever repeated a blog, especially within a month of writing it, but exactly one month ago, April 27, I shared the Liturgy for those flooded by too much information. The deaths of 19 children in south Texas in yet another school shooting surely tug at our hearts, and we wonder what we are supposed to do. A tragic event, to be sure.

We forget, however, that barely 100 years ago unless we lived in or near that town, we wouldn’t know about such a thing until days later, if at all. And then it would be tucked into the newspaper somewhere without videos of grieving parents. I’m pretty sure we weren’t designed to handle all the grief of the world – that’s God’s job, and Jesus was there, in that classroom. One perspective on such a tragedy is in The Shack, about a child abducted and murdered, devastating the parents. Where was God?

Anyway, I offer, again, The Liturgy for those flooded with too much information:

In a world so wired and interconnected,
our anxious hearts are pummeled by
an endless barrage of troubling news.
We are daily aware of more grief, O Lord,
than we can rightly consider,
of more suffering and scandal
than we can respond to, of more
hostility, hatred, horror, and injustice
than we can engage with compassion.

But you, O Jesus, are not disquieted
by such news of cruelty and terror and war.
You are neither anxious nor overwhelmed.
You carried the full weight of the suffering
of a broken world when you hung upon
the cross, and you carry it still.

When the cacophony of universal distress
unsettles us, remind us that we are but small
and finite creatures, never designed to carry
the vast abstractions of great burdens,
for our arms are too short and our strength
is too small. Justice and mercy, healing and
redemption, are your great labors.

And yes, it is your good pleasure to accomplish
such works through your people,
but you have never asked any one of us
to undertake more than your grace
will enable us to fulfill.

Guard us then from shutting down our empathy
or walling off our hearts because of the glut of
unactionable misery that floods our awareness.
You have many children in many places
around this globe. Move each of our hearts
to compassionately respond to those needs
that intersect our actual lives, that in all places
your body might be actively addressing
the pain and brokenness of this world,
each of us liberated and empowered by

your Spirit to fulfill the small part
of your redemptive work assigned to us.

Give us discernment
in the face of troubling news reports.
Give us discernment
to know when to pray,
when to speak out,
when to act,
and when to simply
shut off our screens
and our devices,
and to sit quietly
in your presence,

casting the burdens of this world
upon the strong shoulders
of the one who
alone
is able to bear them up.

Amen.

This liturgy is from Every Moment Holy by Doug McKelvey. Posted by The Rabbit Room • March 16, 2020

“Move each of our hearts to compassionately respond to those needs that intersect our actual lives…Give us discernment to know when to pray, when to speak out, when to act, and when to simply shut off our screens and our devices,…”

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. (Matthew 10.29, ESV)

Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5.7, ESV)

3 thoughts on “Again?”

  1. So true . . . this poem offers grace to affect change within the parameters of our own challenges. Thanks for this helpful reminder.

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