As bullets rip through him,
as he falls to the ground
Jesus is in control.

As she falls asleep,
pillow wet with tears
Jesus is in control.

As his face surfaces
once again
in a video
full of blatant hate
and disrespect
Jesus is in control.

As she looks out
toward the horizon
tired eyes squinting
for so long–
arms ache
from yearning to hold
her daughter, and all she can mouth is:
Jesus is in control.

Sometimes,
His will is not done.
Yet, more predictable
than the summer sun
I know
Jesus is in control.

How long, Lord?
How long?
I trust in You,
Your unfailing Love–
my heart bows low,
as I recall what I know:
Jesus is in control.

They pray, they fast,
feet of vigilantes pounding the dust
the one truth that could be their refuge, their trust?
Jesus is in control.

I look at their names,
their pictures,
and I wonder how old
they look today.
Yet, it is in Jesus’ Name I pray
because Jesus is in control.

I look toward the hills
I pray, I cry, I trust
quiet confidence
in the One whose very heart I know;
He is good, and never lets go
My God is in control.

2018, Annalee Hoover