Whispers thread through the flaming rage,
almost lost, almost imperceptible, drowned out by opinion, history, frenzied fury, and flailing fists.
The whispers tip toe in my tossing mind, seeking a place to land and be heard.
They are the filaments of hope, the clinging truths that cannot be destroyed by rhetoric or abuse or repeated dogma.
They are woof and warp, the solid underpinning of this spinning, unsettled mess.
Are you listening? Am I listening?
We are all the same—blood and bone.
We are all broken—body and soul.
We are all human—color and kind.
God loves. And
He whispers in the tumult
to see as He does and love as He loves.
Romans 13:10 (NLT)
Love does no wrong to others, so love fulfills the requirements of God’s law.
1 John 4:7-8 (NLT)
Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who…
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