There’s a line from a movie that echoes in my soul lately:
“I’m tired, boss… tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world every day… there’s too much of it. It’s like pieces of glass in my head all the time.”

Can I confess something to you, friend?
I’m tired too.

Not just the “need-more-sleep” kind of tired. But soul-tired. Tired in my bones.
Tired of watching people speak with venom instead of care.
Tired of injustice wrapped in religious language.
Tired of cruelty masquerading as boldness.
Tired of the ache I see in the eyes of the kind-hearted who keep getting trampled by the sharp edges of other people’s pride.

But mostly? I’m tired of people being ugly.
Not ugly in appearance. Ugly in action.
Ugly in the way they dismiss, demean, and divide.
Ugly in how they scapegoat the vulnerable to feel powerful.

Scripture tells us that Jesus wept over Jerusalem, not because He was weak, but because He saw the hardness of people’s hearts.
He saw religious leaders burden the people with law but withhold mercy (Matthew 23:4).
He saw the temple turned into a market.
He saw the woman at the well judged and discarded.
He saw lepers outcast, children silenced, and foreigners feared.

And He didn’t just weep.
He healed.
He welcomed.
He restored.

He kept showing up with kindness anyway.

Maybe you’re reading this today and you feel it, too. The ache. The exhaustion.
You’re trying to be light in a world that seems to prefer shadows.
You’re offering dignity in spaces that reward domination.
You’re leading with grace and watching others lead with greed.

And you wonder: is it worth it?
Is being kind in a cruel world still powerful?

Beloved, hear me: Yes.
It is holy resistance.

Every act of kindness is a refusal to let darkness win.
Every time you choose empathy over ego, you echo the heart of Christ.
Every gentle word, every patient pause, every bridge you build, it matters.

Galatians 6:9 reminds us:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

That verse doesn’t ignore our weariness; it acknowledges it.
Doing good will wear on you. It’s costly. But it’s also kingdom-building.

So if today you’re tired, take a breath.
Cry if you need to. Step back. Be held by the One who never wearies.

And then? When you’re ready?

Let’s get back to the holy work of being kind in a world that often isn’t.
Let’s be people of gentleness in a culture of outrage.
Let’s be living, breathing reminders that God’s love is still present, even here. Even now.

Because ugliness may be loud, but kindness is still louder in the Kingdom of God.

And we? We were made for such a time as this.