This world can be devastating sometimes. Everywhere we look, there is pain, there is war.
This world has been devastating recently, for so many of us. Devastating because of the crisis, because of pain and loss, because of war.
Wars can look very different at times. They can be silent and peaceful, or they can be loud and violent. There are injustices happening that make us go out and fight for something, or someone. There can be honourable, godly motivators, or they can be selfish and narcisstic.
There can be war because of years of oppression, fear, and mistreatement, prejudice so deeply engrained in us humans that we stand, dumbfounded, that certain things still happen in this world.
There can also be war because of people wanting power, money, or land. Because they feel endangered by their neighbor, or because they want revenge, because one of their loved ones has been hurt.
There can be war because they believe in a cause, believe that a certain faith or nation or tribe or skin color is something better.
There is war that is justified. And war that isn’t.
And then there is war behind closed doors, in homes. People disagreeing, one using their power over the other, people fighting for belonging, love, being heard, and sometimes fighting for plain survival.
It’s out there, everywhere we look.
It’s in our houses sometimes.
It’s in my heart often: a war between the good and the bad, the right or the wrong, the lesser or the higher road. A war between love and hate, pride and humility, my sense of self or my losing my self.
Everywhere. War.
It sometimes seems never-ending – this constant, loud noise. It’s sometimes very needed, that noise, because maybe, then, it will finally be heard. Truly heard, and maybe understood.
But war always, always comes with pain. Sometimes, it comes from pain. It always brings pain.
And sometimes my heart hurts from all of it, from seeing and hearing and experiencing all this war, and I’m not even in any of them. Not the bad ones anyway.
But just the sheer knowing of the injustices happening to people of certain skin colour, to people of certain gender or age, to people of certain castes or economic standing, is heart-wrenching.
The oppression pressing on my heart. So much so that it overwhelms me at times.
In one of those moments, I had written this song. When I looked out into the fields then, it seemed all so peaceful in my corner of the world, but so much of the world wasn’t, and isn’t. Sometimes, my world isn’t. Always, this world isn’t.
I wonder where to go with all the pain, and the only answer I always have is Jesus.
The thing is: He knows each and every single person out there to whom injustice is done. And He loves every single one of them, forever and always, unconditionally and deeply.
If I am sitting here, in pain because of this world, then how much more is He? If I start crying just hearing of stories of people being assaulted, murdered, oppressed, raped, or people who have to live in fear of the government – the very people who are supposed to protect them – then how much more is He crying for all of these people to whom such injustices are done?
His love does not compare to ours, not in the least. It is so, so much bigger, wider, higher – so much more. That is why His heart breaks so, so much more.
And whilst I barely understand what it really means that He is a just God, I wholly believe that He is absolutely, perfectly just, and that, because He loves us so, He will bring justice to this world.
It sometimes seems hard to believe, but because of that love, I know He will deliever us.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in the way we expect Him to.
So let’s keep crying out for delieverance from evil, especially in times like these.
Because one day, the God of Mercy will bring an end to this pain.
Until that day, I know He is crying with and for all of us.
So, here goes the song.
