Hear my prayer, O LORD;
let my cry for help come to you.
2 Do not hide your face from me
when I am in distress.
Turn your ear to me;
when I call, answer me quickly.
Sometimes I get discouraged for no reason. It doesn’t make sense: Life is good. I just got back from a great camping trip where I was able to stand in wonder at God’s beautiful creation. School is busy, but manageable. Life in community is crazy, but so rich. Why am I discouraged?
This psalm is the psalm of an afflicted man. I am not afflicted; I am blessed! So why can I feel the weight of these prayers in my marrow as they flow through me and out to the Lord?
My heart is blighted and withered like grass;
I forget to eat my food.
5 Because of my loud groaning
I am reduced to skin and bones.
6 I am like a desert owl,
like an owl among the ruins.
7 I lie awake; I have become
like a bird alone on a roof.
I am surrounded by community, and yet I feel utterly alone. Moments of laughter and joy are immediately quenched by the overwhelming insignificance of all my efforts, all my failures, all my growth. Times of prayer that should be dominated by thanksgiving coming from the lips of one so blessed are filled with weeping. I don’t even know why I am weeping or what would dry up my tears, but when I am most vulnerable, on my face before God, all that comes is lament.
The sun is shining bright in our land, at my school, and in our community, but in my soul it is a dark night. The truth is I am scared of the dark. How do I react when the darkness of my soul seems as arbitrary as the weather – or maybe as hopelessly cyclical as day and night?
But you, O LORD, sit enthroned forever;
your renown endures through all generations.
13 You will arise and have compassion on Zion,
for it is time to show favor to her;
the appointed time has come.
14 For her stones are dear to your servants;
her very dust moves them to pity.
15 The nations will fear the name of the LORD,
all the kings of the earth will revere your glory.
I will bless the name of the Lord forever. In the brightest day and in the darkest night, I will stand in wonder at his work in the world. Even if I feel utterly alone, the truth is that it is not about me and that God is bringing about a redemption in this world that far supersedes my emotions, and that truth will sustain me.
Somebody asked me what the middle section would be if I were to write a psalm of lament – you know, the part where the psalmist stops whining and talks about the ways that he sees the Lord working that allow him to Praise God in the midst of struggle. Well, here we go:
We have a set of glass sliding doors in Allelon house, so we set out some dry-erase markers so that anyone can write on the glass. One of the kids from the neighborhood wrote “Love is in here” the other day.
The life group I used to be a part of when I attended Beltway is helping my new church prepare Thanksgiving meals for people who wouldn’t be able to afford them otherwise. In this and so many other ways, God is breaking down walls between congregations and denominations and is uniting His Body to be broken bread and poured-out wine in the world.
Josh went to Moo Moo’s football game today. This is the third week in a row he has been there cheering him on. Tomorrow we’re going to Allenia’s program at her school. We’re going to carpool with her family who wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise. Together, as one huge family, we’re going to cheer on a beautiful little girl who we all love.
I bought Jimbo and Debbie some gas today so that they could get to Wichita Falls for his hearing tomorrow morning. We don’t know for sure when or if Jimbo will be back. I’m honestly going to miss him. As they were getting ready to leave, we shook hands at least four times and finally gave each other a hug. He had noticed that I like wearing bandannas, and he pulled one of out of his pocket to give to me – something to remember him by.
Sometime in the next few months, I’m going to stand in for my friend Clarence so that he can marry the woman he loves. It’s been beautiful to watch the Lord bring redemption and forgiveness even through the unimaginable emotional, spiritual, and physical separation of incarceration. He is at work in the darkest prison cell and the darkest corner of my heart.
But you remain the same,
and your years will never end.
28 The children of your servants will live in your presence;
their descendants will be established before you.
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