Please comfort my black brothers and sisters made to feel their skin is a threat, their lives unworthy, their cries unheard, and worse, mocked. You hear us, Lord, when we are choked by grief, by injustice, by those who tell us our pain is imaginary, an exaggeration. You hear us. You see us, Lord—underrepresented, misrepresented, caricatured. When all turn a blind eye, like the good Samaritan, you see us. Comfort us with the hope, not just that Heaven will balance the scales of suffering and injustice, but will break those scales with glory immeasurable.

Help us to persevere, marching forward (yes, with tears in our eyes) to an inheritance no bullet, policy, words, nor silence can steal because it’s kept by you, our hope. When justice is elusive here and now, steady our hearts on your promises. And please, please, please help me overcome my apathy, my fear of man, my embarrassing ignorance, and inaction for the oppressed, all of which keeps me from loving like you.

Jesus, I need you. We need you.