Kimberlee K.

Dear God,

In the midst of so much darkness, destruction, and evil, I just want to pray for the people in pain.

Not just pain, anguish. The people who are suffering, dying, enduring unfathomable trauma. The people being swept up in the tidal wave of chaos, hatred, and misunderstanding. The people that aren’t just walking through fire but sitting in it, burning in it.

It is hard to watch, to listen to, to comprehend.

I struggle in my safe home, my warm bed, to understand the nightmare happening elsewhere. I struggle in my prayers for material things, small changes, minor healing, knowing that elsewhere people are begging for survival, for a moment to breathe, for the ability to breathe.

It is so unfair, unbalanced.

How can there be such hate? Such pain?

And what can I do?

But I don’t want to pray for me. For guidance, for validation, for importance. I want to pray for them—those in the dark, those in the danger, those so deeply entrenched in the pain.

I want to pray for the children, who might only know a world that burns, that hates, that screams. I pray they would be given the opportunity to learn its other faces—its other colors. I pray that a flame of hope would stay lit in their hearts, encouraging them to believe in a better world, and I pray they would see that come to fruition. I pray that kindness, love, safety, hope, joy, and respect would find them in abundance, raising them in light and not dark.

I pray for the men and women that barely sleep as they fear not only what the morning brings but the night. Those at a loss for words, whose hearts harden by the minute, who can’t make sense of the world and thus can’t look into the eyes of children who need them to. I pray they would find peace, curiosity, resilience. I pray they too would believe in a better world, and an end to this reign of hatred. I pray you would give them words, stories, songs, memories, things that wrap them in warmth and encourage them to keep going. I pray that help would find them, that kindness would find them, and that they would exhale, at last, resting in the possibility of the morning, the night—in the opportunities ahead, the hope, the wonder.

I pray for the helpers, who bravely face the darkest realities every day in order to do what is right and give help to the helpless. I pray they would not only discover the core needs of those they are serving but would receive far reaching support from those whose hearts are touched by their work. I pray you would give them energy and determination and that you would soften the hearts of those they come in contact with, allowing compassion to flow both ways. I pray for connection and understanding that defies language and culture and exists in the invisible strings of humanness. I pray you would keep them safe, strengthening their hearts and bones, each day giving them renewed purpose, recharged perseverance.  

I pray for people, God. Bottom line. And though that is vague, it is not meaningless. Because you know the people who need the most prayer, you know the people being ravaged by suffering and darkness, you know the people whose flames of faith, of hope, of life are withering in the winds of destruction. I pray you would let them know they are seen, heard, cared for, prayed for, and meaningful. I pray your light would shine through the darkest darkness, reminding them they are never too lost to be found, and never so small that they are forgotten.

I pray they know the love they deserve, and I pray they seek that, rather than exchanging one darkness for another. I pray the legs that wobble, the hands the tremble, the teeth that grit, the skin that prickles, the hearts that pound, the stomachs that drop, the eyes that sting—I pray they would all be met with your strength, your comfort, your peace, your hope, your power, your love, your goodness.

I pray that people sitting in the fire would stand up and come through it. I pray that people drowning would find strength and resurface. I pray that people suffering would find light and let it guide them.

I pray that help will reach those who need it, and that all other distracting noise will quiet.

I pray for the people, God, you know the who, you know the where.

I pray for their pain, I pray for their hope, I pray for their light.

Amen.