As the murder of innocents continues, I'm more and more aware of the evil that hungers inside me.
It's so easy to feed it when I'm tired, weary, or feeling thin.
It's so hard to empty myself, to starve my control, to make room for quiet, for stillness, for peace.
But I look at the alternative. It's all over the news media.
How can I glut on fury, doubt, and ego when I can taste the promise of the God-who-loves?
Could the morsel of my heart's hope be multiplied into a love-feast for the whole world?
God, you know, we could really use a miracle.
Create in me a clean heart, o God.