It's Friday, and God's tears are flowing.
It's Friday, and we are losing.
It's Friday, and children are being massacred in a place called quite inappropriately Nice. Nice? Children? Innocence is crushed, and we don't know what's next.
It's Friday, and I thank God above that Sunday's still coming, that death doesn't hold the end card, and that we can one day know that while things like what we're going through are difficult, loving Jesus so that we can love others isn't one of those difficult things.
It's Friday, and we have to talk about what separates us.
It's Friday, and all the goodness that we can muster can't defeat the evil in the world by our own power.
It's Friday, and with each day we wonder just where the love packed up and went to.
It's Friday, and I thank God that Sunday's still on the rail line coming, always coming, always on the way, always near the station.
It's Friday, but I notice that no police and no public folks shot each other yesterday. Small steps, big, big results even if it's still Friday.
It's Friday, and children are without parents in this country.
It's Friday, and the crush of devastating debt still weighs on many.
It's Friday, and if anyone on the planet understands our insurance situation, God love you and pass the word.
It's Friday, and I thank God that Sunday's still coming just as quickly as one could pray it would come.
It's Friday. The temperature is slightly below the thermostat reading in Hell, and the last time it rained, I think, was when I was a child.
It's Friday, and all the want things to fix themselves as we sit and watch just aren't getting fixed.
It's Friday, and everything we could hope for done picked up and gone.
It's Friday, but I thank God that Sunday's still chugging toward us all.
Do you know the love that Sunday represents? I pray you do.
It's Friday, and God's solution to our messes is a Sunday morning when Jesus walked out of the tomb and love gathered on a hilltop and smiled.
It's Friday, but change could be ours.