Lord, we pray this day mindful of the sorry confusion of our world. Look with mercy upon this generation of your children so steeped in misery of their own contriving, so far strayed from your ways and so blinded by passions.
We pray for the victims of tyranny, that they may resist oppression with courage.
We pray for wicked and cruel men, whose arrogance reveals to us what the sin of our own hearts is like when it has conceived and brought forth its final fruit.
We pray for ourselves who live in peace and quietness, that we may not regard our good fortune as proof of our virtue, or rest content to have our ease at the price of other’s sorrow and tribulation.
Amen.
This prayer, penned by Reinhold Niebuhr some time in the 20th century (he lived from 1892-1971), was included in the daily devotional Rhonda and I read this week.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
The opening line—praying in light of “the sorry confusion of our world”—feels especially salient right now. The chaos we witness daily grieves us, disturbs us, angers us. And though there are certainly practical, tangible responses that can (and must) be done to push back against the chaos and to shelter the victims of said chaos, I’m convinced the first step is still prayer. Specifically, prayer for those who’ve strayed far from God’s ways… including ourselves.
It’s easy to draw lines between “us” and “them,” to assume that the problem is always out there with the Musks and Trumps of the world. Yet this prayer subtly invites us to recognize that the same forces of power, greed, fear that we lament—have a propensity to also take hold of our own hearts. We are not immune. The prayer, then, asks for mercy—mercy that sets us free from the very things that perpetuate the confusion and chaos in the first place.
Niebuhr’s line about praying for “wicked and cruel men” echoes Jesus’ call to pray for our enemies and those who persecute us (Matthew 5:43-45). We pray for them not only because we want to see liberation from the cruelty they unleash but because in doing so we reveal that none of us are far from becoming undone ourselves. We do not pray out of moral superiority but with a humility that sees that any one of us, left unchecked, can bear the same poisonous fruit we see unfolding before us.
And finally, that last paragraph might be my favourite. It’s a reminder that the peace and comfort we enjoy is not a sign of our own goodness. Often, it has come at a cost—borne by others, carried by those who have suffered and sacrificed for us. This prayer invites us to resist the lie that our ease is deserved and instead to hold gratitude and humility for the unseen trials that paved our way.
So friends, this week, I invite you to recite this prayer as often as you’re able. I believe this is an important and much-needed prayer in these chaotic days not only for the sake of the world but for the sake of our own souls.
Grace and Peace,
Steve
Amen. I appreciate the challenges in this prayer. It makes me think of the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18) and the LORD’s reminder to His people in Deuteronomy 7 and 9 that they did not merit being chosen.
Yes! Good comparison. Everything is grace. We need to keep that front of mind.
I struggle with this. Although I recognize i have the same propensity to greed, pride and cruelty, and that “but for the grace of God go I,” I still can’t bring myself to pray for the evil people who perpetuate such suffering on others. Largely because I know of no historical examples of tyrants who repented. I think that if a person chooses evil long enough, they grow hardened and injured to change.
Sheesh, talk about honesty! I feel this so much as well, Marianne. Thanks for your vulnerability here. And frankly… I don’t really know what to suggest because I agree with you that it is hard to pray for such evil people. Perhaps, at the least, we can pray for the people in their sphere of influence (staffers, etc.), the situations they impact through their actions and, most of all, for God to soften our own hearts toward them such that we might one day arrive at a place of grace.