The cities did not repent.
You did Your mightiest works there. You brought the kingdom right among them, and still they did not receive it.
What hardness must live in the hearts of man to see the things You did, hear Your words, and have You among them day after day, only to turn away?
Jesus, we, too, walk among miracles. We, too, have Your words. We are drenched with them, surrounded every day by truth. But we, too, turn from it. We, too, look for something else. A different way. A better way. Our own way.
Make us poor to receive You. Let the weakness of our wisdom crack at last, the walls of the fortresses come crashing down to make way for You. Make us question everything we thought we understood, and may all the questions lead to You. May we look at our own works which seem so impressive to us now, and may we know them as rubbish. Burn them. Let us see the backwards kingdom, the might of hands that reach to touch disease, the peace of surrender, the strength of hearts that forgive.
May we sorrow over our clenched fists and our words slung in hatred. May we admit to our pride. May we relinquish our fears and trust grace and truth working together. May we mourn our sin. Make us simple to receive the hidden things. Come and reveal Yourself to us, and let us see.
We are a people neither gentle nor humble. But may our heavy burdens and hard labor make us seek You at last. Help us believe You, let You have it all, and take the yoke of rest that we fight so hard against. Help us look to You, Jesus, and learn from You.