In a World Unraveling, God Still Reigns.

I wake up, grab my coffee, thumb the screen—and it’s the same grim parade, again.

A man guns down a pregnant woman at a red light—her husband beside her—an unborn child erased in the same breath, and the system shrugs it off under the banner of insanity. Not innocence—insanity. Which, in practice, means the same thing for the rest of us trying to make sense of it. A life taken, two lives really, and the resolution feels like fog—clinical, detached, almost antiseptic in how it avoids the weight of what actually happened.

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Another headline. A 63-year-old man in a wheelchair—beaten, slammed into the pavement until he’s dead. Not in some back alley at midnight. In the open. Public. Broad daylight like it’s nothing. The attacker gets years—yes—but you can’t help but feel the imbalance. A human life reduced to a sentence that will be counted down, day by day, until it’s over, while the victim’s clock has already been stopped for good.

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