There is weeping over the land.  

Hearts are burned, shattered, and torn. They are tired and broken. A weariness has settled into the bones of America.

One hit falls right behind another. The impact lands hard. A slow chipping away. A stirring up of ground that in places was not well rooted, allowing boulders to finally fall off, exposing raw wounds that have festered for generations. Underneath the surface, a current of injustice acknowledged only in pieces, in spaces few and far between. 

There is weeping over the land. 

The ground vibrating from the cries of a people who have been broken. The sound of movement, it is undeniable. 

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The tears, the anger, the innocent, the guilty, the loud, the quiet. The worn, the restless, the brave, the scared. The privileged, the oppressed. All of us humans. All of us God’s children, created in His image.  

There is weeping over the land. 

The weeping is exhausting. It is a guttural response that brings the land to its knees. And on our knees is where we take heart, for after the weeping, the sun rises, the exhausted find strength to once again stand, and all things are made new. The broken phoenix rising from the ashes.  

God is master at giving life to death and making the weak strong.

Rise, God, rise. Pour out your mercy on us. For when we weep, You weep. When we are broken, You put us back together. When we are confused, You are not.  

There is weeping over the land.  

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May the tears renew the minds of all of us, and may it finally open the eyes to heartache that so many have carried but countless others have not seen or been willing to acknowledge. Let the weeping swing wide the door that allows God to move. Heavens fall, open sky on hearts and cities and homes. The cries of people lifted high, the ears of God attuned to the heart of His children. Repent, turn to me. I will rescue you. And finally, may the hearts of repentance bring about the healing and change that will alter the landscape of humanity forever.  

So now, Lord, come. Heal the land.

Bring justice for the oppressed. Bring peace to the turmoil. Bring forgiveness for the repentance cried. Bring love to what was once covered in hate. Pour out blessings that will be felt for centuries to come, so the children born from this pain will never know what it took to bring them into the peace that is sure to come.

There is weeping over the land, but please God, may it last only for a night. 

“Weeping may last through the night,
but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5 ).

Previously published on the author’s blog