As we’ve been pondering Jesus weeping over Jerusalem in Luke 19, sometimes poetry can help connect in ways that prose cannot. Take time to listen for God - and for your own heart - in this poem.

- H. Edgar Hix

When I yelled at You,

You who taught the thunderbolt to strike,

silently listened.

When I called You unfair,

You who judged angels worthy of Hell


When I questioned Your very existence,

You who conceived the sky and the night


And, when hurt fills my body

and runs like rivers of blood from my eyes,

You who lived Gethsemane