Weight

Lord, the weight of this week is heavy. The calendar itself feels bruised.

September 11 still cries out from the dust—flames, falling towers, and faces never forgotten. A wound that does not heal, a scar that still aches with each anniversary.

And now—new losses layered upon old ones.

Loved ones are remembered with tears. Stories cut short before their time. Lives lost without answers.

Every headline is a reminder that this world groans (Romans 8:22), that evil still strikes without warning (Psalm 46:1–3), that death still steals what we cannot keep (1 Corinthians 15:26).

We are reminded of how fragile we are—how quickly breath is taken how suddenly violence, illness, and sorrow crash into the rhythm of ordinary life (Job 14:1–2).

Our laments pile up, and our hearts break again and again (Psalm 34:18).

Yet You, O God, are not unmoved.

Your promises are not forgotten.

You collect our tears in Your bottle (Psalm 56:8). You record our sighs (Psalm 38:9). You bore our griefs and carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4), and You will not leave us abandoned in the rubble (Hebrews 13:5).

So we cry out: How long, O Lord? (Psalm 13:1–2).

How long will hatred and death be allowed to reign? How long until swords are beaten into plows (Isaiah 2:4), and justice rolls like a river (Amos 5:24), and peace like an ever-flowing stream (Isaiah 66:12)?

We wait for the day You promised—when mourning is turned to dancing (Psalm 30:11), when graves give up their dead (John 5:28–29), when every tear is wiped away (Revelation 21:4).

Until then, we grieve as people who still hope (2 Corinthians 4:10-18; 1 Thessalonians 4:13) because JESUS died and rose from death to conquer sin and death (1 Corinthians 15:3–4, 54–57).

We lament the brokenness of our world, and we cling to the One who makes all things new (Revelation 21:5).

“The LORD’s faithful love never ends; His mercies never cease. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22–23).

Follow me… as I follow Jesus Christ.