A Prayer for Those Who Mourn

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In This Edition of Remarkable Monday

• A Lingering Weight

• More loss. More heartbreak.

• Pausing to Pray

A Lingering Weight

Friday evening, I was at the barbershop when my phone rang. It was my mother.

“Do you have your cousin’s number?” she asked. Something about the way she said it made me uneasy.

Not too long after that phone call, I learned why.

They had been trying to confirm if the news they heard was true—my uncle had passed.

It was another blow in what already felt like a heavy stretch of time. If you’ve been online lately, you’ve probably noticed it too—this lingering weight, this sense of collective grief.

More loss. More heartbreak.

On Wednesday evening, two planes collided mid-air near Washington, D.C., claiming the lives of 67 people. Then, by Friday evening, another crash—this time near Philadelphia, a medical transport plane with six people on board, including a child and her mother; tragically, there were no survivors. More loss. More heartbreak.

It’s overwhelming. And if I’m honest, my mind wants to go in a hundred different directions trying to process it all. How will their loved ones recover? Why is this happening? What does all of this mean? How do we even begin to make sense of so much tragedy?

But before I let myself spiral into those questions, I remind myself to do one thing first: pray.

Pausing to Pray

Because prayer doesn’t erase grief, but it helps carry it. It doesn’t give us all the answers, but it centers us in the One who holds them. And when the world feels unsteady, prayer reminds me that I don’t have to be the one holding it all together.

So today, I’m pausing. I’m praying. If you’re feeling the weight of it all too, I invite you to do the same. Jesus taught His disciples to pray, not with long, complicated words, but with a simple model that re-centers us in the truth of who God is. So today, I’m letting The Lord’s Prayer shape my own:

Our Father, who art in heaven, We acknowledge that You are sovereign. You see what we cannot. You hold what feels too heavy for us to carry. Even in our grief, You are still good.

Hallowed be Thy name. You are holy, righteous, and just. Even when we don’t understand, we choose to trust You.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. We long for a world where suffering is no more, where loss does not have the final word. Until that day, help us to be Your hands and feet—bringing comfort, compassion, and hope to those in need.

Give us this day our daily bread. Be our strength today. Provide peace for those in mourning, courage for those who feel lost, and wisdom for those making difficult decisions.

And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. When we feel angry or overwhelmed, remind us of Your mercy. Help us extend grace, even in our grief.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Keep our hearts from being consumed by fear. Guard our minds from despair. Lead us toward faith, hope, and love.

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

If you are reading this far…

I hope this message finds you well. I’m sharing from my heart in hopes that you will be inspired to unearth and live out your God-given purpose. Hopefully, something I said resonated. I would love to hear from you if so. Please feel free to reach out to me on social media. FYI: I’m mostly active on Instagram these days. If you were forwarded this message, you can subscribe here to receive thoughts like this directly in your inbox. And don’t forget to check out the latest episode of my podcast, ConvoRoom with Mark Allen Patterson.

See you next week,