Mercy to the Humans
We ask for mercy. Mercy comes.
For our shaky health, for our unpredictable bills
For our deadlines, for our broken
families, our friends in need;
For our stressed-out campuses,
for our fearful congregations—
We ask for mercy. Mercy comes.
For our manifold addictions to sugar, to oil,
to alcohol, to our cars, to our guns, to our opinions;
For our indifference to Nature’s needs,
for the persistence of violence,
For turmoil and division, for our blindness
to communities of color, for our callous forgetfulness
of First Nations—
We ask for mercy. Mercy comes.
It comes in our questions, in our quests,
in our confusion and celebration and struggle;
as we gather and welcome a season of darkness and cold—
We look for grace. Grace has already arrived.
It arrives as a child sleeping in a food trough in a barn.
It arrives in a whisper. It arrives in a circle of strangers
who are all the same kind of broken.
The kingdom is already here.
It arrives as a wafer dipped in the common cup.
It arrives as a moment of stillness, a space,
a pause before speaking.
It arrives as a prayer for God’s presence.
The kingdom is already here.
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