Where I live drought desecrates,
Heat scorches fields, crops wither,
Wasted while elsewhere floods
Devour bridges to rip asunder
Friend and family. Things fall
Apart. The parched earth cracks,
The chasms widen to swallow
Whole our fractured world.
Here, before us, the abyss,
Yet, if you can, imagine this:
Within that void, the empty tomb,
A place of grief, of loss, of fear,
A woman weeps. She stands alone.
A place of waiting, hidden, fertile,
Why are you weeping? Jesus asks,
And out of darkness, springs new
Life.
—Sarah Rossiter
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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