Finding Grace in the Darkness
Connecting with this moment in time
Dear friends,
Are you feeling the weight of the world right now? Heavy news, unstable days, and lingering uncertainties keep us off balance. More than ever, this is the moment to pause and reflect on what God offers us as gifts to cherish: air to fill our lungs, soil that nourishes us with food, water to quench our thirst—just to name a few.
These may seem small and insignificant as we look upon a world full of hurt and suffering. Many have nothing, where hope gives way to desperation. Yes, even your own situation might be proving to be difficult and demanding—draining you of the energy you often took for granted. So many aspects of daily life start weighing you down.
Now is the time to fill your life with the simple ways that are full of God’s grace.
You have family and friends with whom you can share, serve, and love more fully.
You have prayers to raise up for those who have lost those closest to them.
Your new day begins, and a single act of kindness can change a life.
Thank someone and discover how it affects them and you.
You have a mind and body - fill it with wonder and work!
There are many different ways that grace alone can anchor our hearts in God’s goodness! Just remember, all of life is wrapped in what God has provided us. This is what we need to hear and share with one another. This isn’t fantasy, but a bold declaration in the face of harsh realities.
Look at our world — there are so many horrors, overtly or subliminally, that we carry with us. Where do we begin? Removing restrictions on CO2 emissions (more on that in another post). The Epstein files. Attitudes by the powerful who act with impunity and care little about how it affects the neglected and forgotten. The callousness and harm toward innocent protesters. This is just a fraction of how we are being torn apart.
Of course, we want diligent and strong law enforcement, but not at the expense of people’s constitutional rights. When that is twisted, those who follow the law are easily tempted to become lawless. And when trust erodes, the very institutions meant to protect us begin to lose their moral authority. In moments like that, we are called to pray for those who serve and to seek justice that restores rather than wounds.
Sometimes I go down memory lane, listening to music that evokes nostalgia for earlier times. Jackson Browne’s “Doctor My Eyes” is one of those songs. For me, it poses a question that echoes into what we face now: what do we do when we’ve witnessed so much pain that we can no longer feel it?
In our current moment, when news of crisis and suffering streams endlessly through our devices, this question feels urgent and personal. The numbness Browne describes isn’t callousness—it’s a soul crying out for help, recognizing that something vital has been lost.
Acknowledging our own desensitization is, in itself, an act of spiritual courage. It means we haven’t given up entirely. It means some part of us still longs to feel, to connect, to care deeply again.
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where there will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it's too late for me
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky
Is this the prize for having learned how not to cry
Jackson Brown
We can begin to ask why we are feeling numb and what it is shielding us from. Maybe we’ve taken on more grief than we realized. Maybe we’ve been trying to carry the world’s pain alone, forgetting that we weren't meant to handle such weight by ourselves. Our disillusionment isn’t a character flaw—it’s proof that we’ve been paying attention, that we’ve cared enough to be hurt by what we’ve seen.
The path forward isn’t to force ourselves to feel everything all at once, but to start with small and intentional acts of re-engagement. Pick one cause that stirs something in you, even faintly. Show up for one person who needs your presence. Allow yourself to feel one specific grief rather than the overwhelming weight of all suffering at once. Our hearts can heal and our vision can become clearer, but not through willpower alone—through practice, rest, and the courage to stay tender in a hard world. The question “Doctor, my eyes—have they seen too much?” becomes not only a lament but an invitation: to see again, to feel again, to love this broken world back toward wholeness, one awakened moment at a time.
Are you feeling the weight? That’s good. Let our Lord fill it with His gifts of grace.
(John writes, and Trudy, the editor, makes it worth reading)
“Doctor My Eyes” was the first single from Jackson Browne’s self-titled debut album which had been released in early 1972.