When I don’t even know my full place in the problem

I hold a space for quiet, humbled listening.

I tune my ears to the persecuted poor in spirit

and hear the cries of the kingdom of heaven.

I hold a space for lament. 

There among the bruised and beat down

is one who kneels to breathe peace

even as he overturns the tables of privileged profiteers. 

Can we look through his tears

and see the painful truths of our whitewashed sepulchres?

Lindsey Gallant
A northern girl living the island life. Follower of Jesus. Writer, book nerd, nature lover. Homeschool mom and Charlotte Mason enthusiast. Prefers pen and paper.

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