What Do I Do When There's Nothing Left To Do?

Every morning when I get in my car now, Syria is one of the first words I hear on my radio.

A few weeks ago, I thought I knew exactly where I stood on this.
Violence begets violence.
The United States needs to stay out of it.
This is not our war.

I still believe all of those things.
I still pray fervently that we can avoid this (though I am beginning to doubt the likelihood).
I know chemical weaponry is wrong; I know genocide is wrong.  I know we need to do something.

But I just don't believe that bombs are the answer.
I don't believe it will solve anything.
And I certainly don't believe you drop a shower of bombs "to make a point."

As my dear friend, Julie said:
 “No boots on the ground” may be the intent, but there’ll be someone’s boots somewhere.

I don't care that the boots may not be American boots - they are still worn by someone's baby, someone's daddy, someone's beloved.

So what do we do?
Do we just sit by and wring our hands over all of it and continue to let people die?

I can't do that.
I can't watch any longer while my newsfeed fills up with images of bodies lining streets - almost as if they're a reminder to any who would dare to protest.
I can't.
I can't live with myself letting injustice run wild.

I have contacted my political leaders - all of them.
I have written and read as much as I can.
I have tried to have an educated opinion.
I have tried to remain sensitive to the fact that (again as Julie said) "This situation was baked and done before our President was ever elected, and they’ve been heading to this point since before the oldest member of the United States Congress was in grade school."

Because herein lies the problem.
This is bigger than me.
It's bigger than the church (even the global church, I think).
It's bigger than the United States or the United Nations.

I've made my voice heard, so what else can I do?
It's just too big.

And then there it was.
The voice crying in the wilderness.

When you realize that your opinion will do nothing to change the matter,

When your utter helplessness follows you around like a dark presence and laughs at all the empty things you say,

I come back to the ancient way.
To the words as old as the tribes of Syria.

Lord have mercy
Christ have mercy
Lord have mercy.

I keep praying.
I keep praying that a better way will be made clear.
I keep praying for mercy.