Humanitarian aid opens doors for the gospel in areas Cru missionaries can't access without it.
Black people, blue uniforms, we all have the common gift of hearts that beat and blood that moves through our bodies. Humanity ties us together.
But the loss of human life in Dallas and the recent incidents in Orlando, Minneapolis and Baton Rouge feel insurmountable. People lost their lives. Their heartbeats no longer beat and they were valuable. The people they beat inside of were valuable. People made in the image of God, with purpose. People woven into the story He’s written for this world.
Race is the conduit through which much pain and offense channels its way into our lives. This struggle is bigger than race. The very nature of our souls is the conversation topic on this table.
Souls that get blinded and lose heart. Souls that don't detect and remember another person's humanity. Souls that need rescue.
We all need rescue. God is the only one who can bring us out of this.
In this difficult time in our nation, I invite you to mourn with those who mourn, with the families and friends left in the wake of these deaths.
Mourn for the family, friends and community of Alton and Philando. The type of trauma and loss they are walking through is like a steel fog that refuses to lift.
Mourn for the family, friends and community of the Dallas police officers, killed as they served the people of their city.
Lament with sorrow for the overwhelming loss of life in all of these shootings. Life is a gift God gives us.
Lament with sorrow for the tension and pain existing between communities of color and law enforcement. Decades of distrust and injustices keep people on the offense on both sides.
Lament with sorrow for the hate and bitterness that led human beings to take the lives of other human beings.
Lament with sorrow that left to our own devices humanity has no hope in this world.
Turn your lament into thanksgiving that God is our hope. He works through the details in disasters to redeem, restore, and heal.
Keep praying.
I believe there's still hope hidden in The Cross. I have to believe there's still hope. We have to believe there’s still hope.
want to believe the sheer weight of humanity means something today in 2016. I want to believe that we can be more intentional to preserve life. I want to believe.
The city of Dallas was rocked by deep grief and inconsolable tragedy last night and the aftershocks continue. Brent. Michael. Patrick. Lorne. Michael. These are the names of the five officers killed in the Dallas ambush during a peaceful protest.
My mother spent nearly 30 years of her life serving as a civilian employee with the City of Atlanta’s Police Department. She assisted heads of police, loved and encouraged the officers and absorbed the losses of those killed in the line of duty as if they were our own family.
James. Randy. Brian. Cedric. Jason. Quinton. These are the names of men who are a part of my family. Men who are my father. My uncle. My cousins who are like brothers. My brother. Men whose blood and love runs through my veins. Men who are black.
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