I remember a book title I once read: Swift, Lord, You are Not.
I hear your call to wait, to trust,
yet as I watch a nation’s heart turn to stone
I wonder when the tide will turn.
How many more children will come home to find their parents taken away?
How many creatures have to die before we realize our dependence on clean air and water?
How many people will be attacked and killed before we realize that killing others doesn’t allay our fear?
As the fist of power squeezes tighter,
how many more will be crushed by its greed, its hate, its oppression?
God of the ages, help me to take the long view—
to remember that empires fall when power corrupts,
to see that plants grow from the decay and rot of what has died,
to look at you on a cross and to see the empty tomb beyond.
Evil may seem strong, but you are stronger,
though your way is not the way of the world.
You who are the way, the truth and the life,
may we know that your way is power in powerlessness,
your way is strength in weakness,
your way is nonretaliation to violence,
your way is resurrection through death.
So I will trust;
I will do what is mine to do;
I will not let my heart turn to stone.
I know you will take small acts of faithfulness
and multiply it many times over.