I don’t know about you, but I am tired.

I’ve come back from holiday and I’m still “all in.”

I know I’ve reached an age when apricots wrinkle and shrivel, but it’s my mind that feels exhausted. Physically, I could walk up and down a mountain… or two.

I’ve pondered my mental weariness and concluded that it’s the “news” that’s exhausting me.

Gosh, this sounds like such a “first-world” problem. People are dying due to mortar fire or starvation, and I’m complaining about fatigue! Yet it’s because of their suffering and despair that I am tired.

Powerlessness in our society is remarkably evident. I feel I cannot do anything to help those whose lives hang in the balance. I can send money to relief agencies, and I can write to my elected representative to pressure the government to intervene with peace efforts or sanctions—but that’s it.

In the “good old days,” brave individuals like St Francis would turn up at the door of dictators or aggressors and bargain with them for peace. His approach—and that of many others in “days gone by”—seems rather heroic, but no longer possible in our modern world. Would Saint Mother Teresa be able to get through “front lines” or into diplomatic meetings? Sadly, probably not.

You and I (unless you are a very rich, powerful individual who can use money to “talk”) are left to rely on God. The “gentle, crucified, forgiving, sacred heart” God who sends grace upon grace into hardened hearts, hoping they will listen and acknowledge the pointlessness of power and land grabs. The benevolent God who trusts us with “free will,” only to see us turn it into a reason why we can kill each other.

The correct “power” is that of God’s love, which is sadly ignored by those who have the “power” to implement it. A ceasefire would be an act of love. Being content with land and boundaries and borders would be an act of love. Laying down weapons and replacing them with food and medical supplies would be an act of love. Peace after war is an act of love.

For love never tires, and love breathes life even into death. Love lifts up and raises the hurt and injured and dying.

But an absence of love… is exhausting.