I sat down this morning to write the Pew, but the words ‘We are at war’ rendered my notes on sacrifice seem suddenly small. The internal journey of Lent must now share space with the external reality of a world on fire.
My life has been a long witness to conflict. Though I missed the Great War, my father didn’t, and I felt its echoes when my father departed for Korea. I saw the hollowed-out eyes of friends returning from Vietnam, and I watched the world change through the lens of Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. After the towers fell and the dust settled on so many battlefields, I allowed myself a dangerous hope: that we had finally outgrown the machinery of and need for war.
Each year, my Christmas list ends with a single, steadfast request: ‘World Peace.’ My children smile at it; my grandchildren know it by heart. Today, that wish feels like a weight. It reminds me that the consequences of leadership are not abstract—they are measured in the lives of the young people we send to the front lines. Leaders may offer soundbites, and Congress may offer noise, but the true cost of their decisions will be paid by my grandchildren’s generation. Even so, I refuse to be cynical. I will take my place as one voice, praying with a fierce, stubborn heart that this conflict—and the very concept of war—be brought to a swift and final end. I am one person, but my heart is set on peace. I am praying not just for a ceasefire, but for a change in the human spirit that makes war unthinkable. Godspeed, Peace.”
Thank you. World Peace. 🙏🏼
Molly Satterfield
Thanks Molly!