If we can’t stop the waters,
and swoop the tiny children
from the beach
away from waves of harm,
what damn difference does it make
to pray and preach
on pain and promise?
Why scribble scribe
on the miracle of mercy
or donate dolls and jackets
when your people are drowning?
Literally drowning.
We send checks to .org
and hope they transform
into bread and vaccine.
We squeeze our lids and call you: GOD!
and try to shake the knowing
that something is very wrong,
at least for the night,
pouting in powerlessness.
Really Lord,
what difference does it make?
You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.
– Leviticus 19:34
World Vision International: http://www.wvi.org/
image: http://nydn.us/17MUCFw
SILVER PENNIES 
tearfully, amen.
(bound pages, please…)
A powerful lament here, Emily. Thank you for putting words to this pain.
Emily, your poem aptly describes many of the problems inherent in today’s mercy ministries. Our family is happy to be involved in a ministry of true mercy, that puts a premium on gospel change through the local church, with a consistent coming alongside to help with daily issues. Thanks for sharing!
Beautiful, just beautiful per usual. This is how I was feeling today actually. Very useless and broken for the hurting.