Yesterday I returned to King’s Way United Methodist Church, where I taught classes for seven years. Their new pastor, the Rev. Dr. Tadd Kruithoff, preached one of the most meaningful sermons I have heard about responding to those with whom we disagree.
Drawing from First Timothy’s call to pray for rulers and those in authority, he challenged us to pray for people across our political divisions.
That message stayed with me as I read today’s Daily Office Scriptures.
I find some of these readings difficult. The psalmists plead for protection and ask God to defeat their enemies. Revelation speaks of judgment. Jesus speaks of fire and division. I hear fear, suffering, urgency, and a longing for God to set things right.
I recognize those feelings.
When I see people being arrested and deported, I worry about their treatment and the families affected. When political messages distort the truth, I feel anger. When leaders invoke God’s name to justify actions I cannot reconcile with Jesus’ teaching, I struggle.
How do I respond honestly and still lovingly?
I am learning that I can pray for someone while opposing their actions. I can ask God to change a leader’s heart while working to protect those being harmed. Seeking accountability can be an expression of concern for everyone involved.
But I also need to watch what happens within me. Anger at injustice can become contempt for a person. Concern for truth can become certainty that I have nothing left to learn.
Psalm 64 describes words used as weapons. Before I repeat an accusation or share a political post, I need to ask whether I have checked it. Am I helping someone understand, or passing along something because it satisfies my anger? Truth deserves the same care when it challenges my own opinions.
Psalm 56 offers a tender image amid the fear: God keeping our tears. Our pain matters to God. We can bring it into prayer before deciding what to do with it.
And in Luke, I hear a call to recognize what this moment requires. Following Jesus may bring disagreement, even among people we love. Yet division itself is no proof that we are right. I still need to ask whether my conduct reflects his compassion, honesty, and mercy.
Sirach brings me back to the people doing the daily work that sustains our lives. Farmers, craftspeople, and laborers hold communities together. Today, I think of those preparing meals, cleaning rooms, keeping records, and caring for others. Their dignity deserves recognition. So does their wisdom.
Then Revelation offers words that stay with me: blessed rest for the faithful.
I think of Peter, who denied Jesus, and John Mark, whose departure from a mission became a source of conflict. Their stories continued beyond those failures. There was room for restoration and renewed service.
There is hope for us, too.
Remembering the mercy I have needed helps me leave room for another person to change. It also reminds me to acknowledge my own mistakes and repair what I can.
Psalm 65 finally opens the view toward forgiveness, watered earth, growing fields, and shared praise. I want that generous vision to shape my daily life.
Today, I can check a claim before sharing it. Contact an elected official. Support help for a frightened family. Honor someone’s overlooked work. Offer an apology. Pray for a leader whose decisions trouble me.
And ask God to show me my next faithful step.
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.
Teach me to see with compassion, listen with wisdom, and speak with love. Protect those who are frightened. Expose deception and stop cruelty. Give our leaders humility, wisdom, and courage to correct what is wrong.
Examine my heart, too. Help me receive correction, act with courage, and keep loving when it is difficult.
Give rest to the weary and hope to those who have stumbled. Let the work of our hands become an offering of your love.
Amen.
—The Curious Pilgrim
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