Can’t sleep.

Fires and tear gas. Rage and grief.

Presidential promises of state-ordered shooting to follow looting.

Property receives protection, care, and outrage on its behalf—more concern than a windpipe slowly crushed, or a bullet-ridden sleeping woman.

It’s as if America can’t conceive of us as more than three-fifths. Can’t fathom us as free, whole beings, worthy of mourning, worthy of lighting agitated flames of remembrance, worthy of the fight to live. 

We are fractions to America. But there is a God who sees. There is a God who frees the enslaved and exalts both the persecuted orphan in Egypt and the trafficked orphan in Persia. He upends wicked world systems for His name’s sake.

Yes.

We need Him now.