I bow my head and try to pray
God, save these broken people. . .
This is how I usually start prayers for my enemies.
But the harder I think, the more I doubt:
Are they even people?
What are they?
I see them as robots.
I see them as animals.
I see them as nothings.
I see them as anything but people.

And it's not because I don't want to believe humans are capable of what they have done.
I know it's true.
I know the depravity,
The brokenness,
The really-just-totally-messed-up-ness of the human person.
Deep down, I know they need saving.
I know I need to love them.

But I don't see their daily struggles.
I don't see them exhausted after walking up the stairs to their dorms every day.
I don't see them staring blankly at their computers and trying to will themselves to start their history papers.
I don't see them crying into their teddy bears at night when they think about everything they miss.
I don't see them laughing with their sisters, thinking about their cousins, saying goodnight to their parents.
I don't see the
ballet dancers
chess players
broadway actors
novelists
banana eaters
star gazers
soccer players
poets
adventure lovers
rock collectors
figure skaters
dreamers
lovers
believers
in them.
I don't see me in them.

God, show me their humanity.

Show me that there is a something within that rough and violent shell.
Show me that they were born the same way I was and will come to the same end I do (from dust to dust).
Show me my love won't be wasted on them.
Show me they're worth fighting for.

The ones we must fight against, we must also fight for.
Love is a war.
Please, God,
let
me
pray.

The dreamers,
the lovers,
the believers,
this is how we must live.
We fight against them,
and we fight ourselves for them.
Our lives are a double war.

God, give us strength.