We Mend, We Begin

Scripture tells us in Micah 6:8, ‘What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.’

And in Ephesians 4:31-32, ‘Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.’

Clearly—

this is not about white or Black.

It’s not about red states or blue states.

It’s not about MAGA or Democrat.

It’s not even just an American thing.

This is a message for anyone willing to listen,

anyone willing to read,

anyone willing to face the truth,

“Humanity itself demands us to act in ways that heal.”

Are we through with our destructive voices?

Are we done with dismissive acts against one another?

Or will we keep breaking what was meant to be whole?

Because if not now,

then when?

If not ME,

then who?

Imagine if you will, 

Imagine another way.

We dare to stop what divides us

and begin what heals us.

This is not politics.

This is not performance.

This is humanity.

And humanity is holy ground.

Spoken Word

“We Mend, We Begin”

We close our eyes together.

We breathe.

We smell the heaviness in the air—

smoke that lingers,

not just from fires,

but from the words we burned into each other’s names.

We listen.

We hear the humming of anger beneath the headlines,

the sighs of mothers running out of prayers,

the silence of neighbors who once waved,

now passing by with lowered eyes.

We look.

We see the lines we carved through our own country—

not rivers, not roads,

but distrust.

We see children inheriting our divisions

before they inherit our dreams.

We taste it.

The salt of tears we never let fall,

the bitterness of promises broken,

the hunger for peace

we keep pushing off for another day.

We feel it.

The weight in our chests when we turn away,

the ache in our hands when they stay clenched,

the cold in the room when love is absent.

So… 

how do we mend what we broke?

We stop.

We stop the hate talk.

We stop the sideways jokes.

We stop the violence—

against minorities, against women, against the ones too weary to stand.

We stop pretending silence is neutral.

And then—

we begin.

We begin with words that heal,

with commitments that breathe life.

We begin with listening at the dinner table,

with kindness in the grocery line,

with courage in the voting booth.

We begin by reaching—

for the trembling hand,

for the voice that quivers,

for the neighbor who doesn’t look like us,

but hurts like us all the same.

Because mending isn’t loud.

It doesn’t live in the roar of a crowd.

It grows in whispers.

In one honest word,

in one act of love,

in one moment brave enough to stop.

So we stop.

Here.

Now.

Together—

we mend.

But let’s be honest—

stopping sounds good,

stopping feels right,

but we know better.

Just taking away the sharpest words,

just silencing the ugliest phrases,

doesn’t heal the wound.

Because underneath—

we still live with distrust.

We still guard our doors.

We still flinch at the headlines,

wondering if kindness is only a mask.

So the question becomes—

what comes after the stop?

How do we start something new,

something written not in hate,

not in blood,

but in humanity?

Maybe it begins in the smallest of ways.

Not speeches,

not slogans,

but humanity in action.

Sharing a meal instead of an insult.

Asking before assuming.

Choosing to walk beside,

instead of stepping over or around.

Letting a stranger’s pain

matter enough to slow our pace.

Maybe it looks like telling the truth—

even when it’s heavy,

even when it means confessing

the harm our silence caused.

Maybe it looks like remembering

we are not enemies first—

we are humans first.

Breathing the same air,

burying our dead in the same soil,

hoping our children will laugh louder

than our anger ever shouted.

So yes—stopping matters.

But starting—

that’s where the real mending begins.

We stop with silence,

but we start with story.

We stop with ending the harm,

but we start with daring to imagine a future

built not on hate,

not on blood—

but on humanity itself.

And if we can’t see the whole way forward—

we can at least take one step.

Together.

 

Dreams are attainable through action. 

Prayer 

Gracious God,

we have lifted our words tonight,

but we know words alone are not enough.

We need Your Spirit to breathe life into them.

Help us stop—

stop the hate in our speech,

the violence in our actions,

the indifference in our silence.

And help us begin—

begin with compassion in our choices,

mercy in our judgments,

and courage in our commitments.

Remind us, Lord,

that this is not about race or politics or borders,

but about humanity—

Your creation,

Your image in every face.

Where there is distrust, sow reconciliation.

Where there is fear, plant peace.

Where there is despair, shine hope.

Bind us together,

not by the grudges we’ve carried,

but by the grace You freely give.

And may the generations after us inherit

not the scars of our division,

but the seeds of our healing.

We ask this in the name of the One who tore down every wall, Jesus Christ, our Peace.

Amen.