Forgive us, Lord.
Forgive us when we wake each day hoping the nightmare has ended.
Forgive us when we cling to our opinions that it can’t be as bad as some say.
Forgive us when we shout for our rights when others can’t breathe.
Forgive us when we look for short-term fixes rather than substantive changes
in our society, in our institutions, in our neighborhoods, in our homes, in our hearts.
In our hearts, O Lord, of every part of me, every thought of mine, every reaction and response.
In our hearts.
Forgive me when I think this problem is about everyone else’s heart.
Forgive me when I won’t do the work I need to do to examine my own soul because
“I don’t have a racist bone in my body.”
Forgive me when I discover that I am a part of the problem and not somehow different or pure.
Forgive me when I want to give up because this is too big, too much, too frightening, too overwhelming.
Forgive me, Lord.
Forgive, please forgive.
In Jesus’ Name. Amen.
Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. (Matt. 18:21-22)
Derek C. Weber, July 2020 |
