Lord, help us…

I am sitting here not wanting to write. It’s late. I need to sleep. It’s good for you to get rest. To sleep. Dear Jesus, help me. I don’t want to write because I’m not sure what’s going to come out. And yes, I know I have control over what I write, but controlling what I write because of trying to fit in or be accepted or ‘liked’ shouldn’t be a major factor in what I want to say. Actually, it shouldn’t factor in at all.

Hmmmmmmmmm…

I’ve said this so many times — I have been consistently weeping over this nation for several years now. Crying, praying, getting angry, asking for mercy, asking for God to intercede. It’s like this nonstop hurting for others, for my family, for our future as a nation.

It’s this not understanding how people can’t or won’t choose to relate to the suffering in other human beings.

It’s not understanding how there are people who see other human beings as less than.

“Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.” That’s what Jesus prayed for.

I struggle with that one. Not with Jesus, but with the they who don’t know what they are doing. I’m thinking the they were the people yelling out “Crucify him. Crucify him.”

I’m thinking it was the people standing around the crosses where the executions were taking place.