The Weariness in His Eyes

News flickers across my screen, faces, headlines, opinions—all tangled. My eyes dart across the chaos, searching for clarity, for something solid beneath the waves of commentary. Malachi 2:17 slips into the noise, a quiet voice amid the shouting. It’s hard not to label: Democrats, Republicans—each side painted, smeared, twisted until nothing feels familiar. The truth feels slippery, elusive. Narratives multiply, each news outlet shaping reality to fit their mold, each story shifting, spinning, falling away from what really happened.

Scrolling through social media, the world narrows. One click—just one—and suddenly my feed is flooded with the same themes, echoing louder with every refresh. The storm builds: news channels, feeds, notifications, all swirling, buzzing, stinging. Anxiety grows until it pushes me toward quiet, toward prayer, toward the Lord.

Political debates flare up around me, sharp and quick. Voices rise, but mine stays quiet, unsure. In my childhood home, disagreements ended before they began—my words swallowed, opinions tucked away. Arguments always felt cold, pointless. Now, the thought of a calm discussion lingers, tempting, but the fear hangs heavier: will anything change? Maybe not the politics, but maybe the way we see each other, for better or worse.

“’You have wearied the Lord with your words. But you say, ‘How have we wearied Him?’ By saying, ‘Everyone who does evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and He delights in them.’ Or by asking, ‘Where is the God of Justice?’”  Malachi 2:17 EVS

Sitting with Malachi, this verse stirs me. It nudges my thoughts, reshapes the way my prayers rise. I imagine God listening, weariness in His eyes, hearing the same complaints over and over. Fingers point, accusations fly—politicians branded as evil, policies condemned. But beneath it all, maybe it’s just disagreement. Maybe the line between sin and policy blurs in the heat of debate.

My words tumble onto this page, urging myself to shift, to pray for God’s kingdom instead of my own frustrations. The lens I use is cloudy, colored by experience, but God’s gaze pierces straight through, seeing hearts I’ll never fully know. As I write, I wonder—can you see it, too? Will you join me, letting God’s vision shape what we pray for?

One voices their strong opinion, while the other one tries to find a way out