The Risk

You pray that God will break your heart for what breaks His and then you take a deep breath.  And wait.  Because you know it is a prayer of risk.

And then your friend who serves in a foreign land gets up and talks about young boys that are being held captive for evil reasons.  Reasons that make me want to scream and pull out my hair.  The worse part is that this evil isn't even illegal in that foreign land.  It is acceptable.

But not in God's eyes.

And so, I scream and give forth salty tears while I pound away on the treadmill.

And remember that I prayed for this ache.

The prayer of risk.

My heart is broken and I have no doubt that it is what breaks God's heart, too.

And, yet I feel small.  And, yet, desperate for God to move.

And set the captives free.

I am simply undone.