When the World Mocks Thoughts and Prayers

Naming Evil for What It Is

Last week, our nation witnessed an act of unspeakable evil. And make no mistake, it is right to call evil what it is, “evil”. Scripture never shies away at naming sin, and neither should we. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20). Softening the definition of sin, or blurring the lines of right and wrong, is to walk in darkness rather than the light.

More and more, our culture struggles with this as we live in an age obsessed with humanizing villains. Movies and media are filled with origin stories that provide tragic backdrops meant to explain how a character descended into darkness. And while these stories can be compelling, they have conditioned many of us to try and justify sin.
Having empathy is not wrong; in fact, Scripture calls followers of Jesus to show compassion. We’re called to feel the weight of others' pain and acknowledge the very real wounds that have shaped their life. But empathy does not eliminate the need for personal accountability.

Life is filled with hardship, but our struggles do not justify acts of wickedness.

Our wounds may be real, our circumstances may be painful, but they do not absolve us from responsibility before God. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). We must learn to hold these both in tension at once: a person may have suffered greatly, but this does not justify their actions; evil is still evil.
The church must recover the courage to hold these truths together. We can empathize with broken people without erasing the reality of their sin. We can grieve the struggles that shape someone’s life while still calling sin what it is: rebellion against God, a surrender to the demonic, and an assault on His image in others. If we lose that clarity, we do not grow in compassion; we grow confused about righteousness itself.

The Gift of Thought

When tragedies strike, one of the first offerings Christians often make is our thoughts. Yet in the cultural conversation, “thoughts” are often dismissed as a hollow, even irrelevant sentiment, little more than polite words to soften the sting of grief. While this can be an empty statement by someone who offers it without any intention to follow through on their commitment, Scripture paints a different picture. To direct our thoughts toward others is not empty; it is the first step in cultivating compassion.

Some might think that our thoughts themselves have power because we send energy into the universe or create realities by sheer force of the mind but Scripture gives no such promise. There is no mystical power in thinking positively or “sending good energy.” Our thoughts instead have even greater power to shape something far more important, our own hearts.

Paul exhorts believers, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:4-5). Our thoughts are not meant to orbit endlessly around ourselves but to be oriented toward the needs of others. In Paul's letter to the church in Rome, he commands, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (12:15). This requires more than polite acknowledgment of someone else’s pain; it demands deliberate reflection and the willingness to enter into another’s joy or sorrow. It is not passive sympathy; it is active empathy, the discipline of placing ourselves in another’s shoes and choosing to carry their burden in our own hearts.

This may not sound like much, in fact, the world continues to mock the sentiment, but in reality, it is radically countercultural. We live in an age of passivity. Our social media feeds are filled with stories of violence, injustice, and tragedy, and most of us scroll past them every day without much thought. The sheer volume of suffering we consume has desensitized us to the true weight of sin on the world. For us to truly stop, to slow down, to think of someone else’s pain is no small thing. It is an act of love in a world that is far more comfortable with indifference.

Scripture tells us that “as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). Our thoughts shape our hearts, and our hearts shape our actions. To genuinely orient our thoughts toward others is to begin the slow work of softening our hearts and readying our hands. This is why empathy should never be ridiculed or shamed. It is not a weakness.

Our thoughts are the seedbed of compassion, the soil from which genuine prayer and righteous action grow.

So when Christians say, “You are in my thoughts,” it is not meant as a dismissal. It is the beginning of love, a deliberate act of slowing down, remembering, and entering into the grief of another. In God’s design, thought oriented around the needs of others is never wasted.
But thought, as important as it is, is not enough on its own. It must give way to prayer.

The Power and Purpose of Prayer

If our thoughts are the seedbed of empathy, then our prayers are an expression of our desperation.

Yet in our culture, prayer is often mocked as just another hollow gesture, or worse, as if it were a failed tool of protection, an accusation that if prayer “worked,” tragedy would never strike. This is, of course, a fundamental misunderstanding of what prayer is.

Prayer is not a charm to ward off evil or a device to manipulate God into giving us what we want. Nowhere does Scripture suggest that prayer insulates us from suffering or guarantees that no harm will come to us. Jesus Himself prayed in Gethsemane that the cup might pass from Him, and yet He still went to the cross (Matthew 26:39).

The purpose of prayer is not to bend God to our will but to bend us to His. It humbles us, reminding us of our weakness and orienting us toward the only One with whom we can find hope.

When we pray, we acknowledge that there is nothing better than Jesus. Paul the Apostle writes that he “counted all things as rubbish compared to knowing Christ” (Philippians 3:8). He even confessed that “to die would be gain”, for it meant he would get to be with Christ (Philippians 1:21-24). Prayer teaches us to see reality the same way: that losing one’s life, even tragically, is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to be separated from Christ, and in Him, we are promised that nothing, not even death itself, can sever us from His love (Romans 8:38-39).

And yet, Scripture also teaches that prayer does have power. Elijah prayed and the heavens withheld rain, and he prayed again and they poured forth (James 5:17-18). The prayers of God’s people are described as incense before His throne (Revelation 5:8). In ways we cannot fully grasp, our petitions move the heart of God, even as they also humble us before Him. Prayer is therefore both the highest expression of our dependence and the greatest exercise of our power. Not because of us, but because of the One to whom we pray.

No legislation, no human activity, no cultural campaign can accomplish what prayer can. The deepest problem of humanity is not policy or legislation but sin, and the only true restraint of sin is salvation and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. That is why we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20). Prayer acknowledges both our desperation and our hope, calling upon God to do what only He can do: change the hearts of men.

So when the world dismisses thoughts and prayers, let us not be ashamed. Our thoughts are not weak, and our prayers do not lack power. They are some of the most profound actions entrusted to the people of God.

In the face of tragedy, Christians must not be silent, nor ashamed. We name evil for what it is. We think deeply about the pain of others. We pray with desperation to the only One who can change hearts. And from that place of clarity, compassion, and dependence, we act. “Thoughts and prayers” are not empty words; they are the lifeblood of a people who believe that Jesus Christ alone is our hope.

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