Oh Lord
Who created the heavens and the earth and all they contain
Whose hand crafted every fiber of every being
Who sees and knows every falling tear
Every drop of blood shed here in this space
How long will you let our hearts be filled with anguish?!
Our souls cry out in pain and disdain
Withering away, short of breath in this place
Where justice like a river has yet to flow
And the blind lead the blind
Seemingly farther and farther away
From the glory of the story of the One
Who came so we might have life
Abundant life
And yet we languish in a land
Where we never get the upper hand
Where you remain hidden in the least
While the richest of the rich continue to feast
And yet...
We know the promise that remains
The truth of the refrain
that You have prepared for us
A place with You in the promised land
Give us strength as we wait for the day
Where our thirst - Your thirst - is quenched
Where our fists are no longer clenched
Grasping at straws so we can simply live
Because others refuse to live simply
We know your saving grace
As we gaze upon the face of the One
Who is alive in the places where we suffer
In the faces of the other
Confident that you run to greet us
As we run into the arms of our Creator
And so we bow our heads in simple praise
Grateful for the smallest of ways
Your mercy falls upon us
Even on the darkest days
Especially on the darkest days
Where the world seems to consume us
And we fight on buoyed by the Spirit
Who gives us rest from the chase
In the unforced rhythm of Your grace
While the promise of the resurrection
Gives light to every sorrow
I’ve been drawn to the psalms of lament over this last year, which is not likely surprising to most. With all that is going on in the world, the words “how long O Lord” come flowing from my lips with ease and regularity. What I love about lament is how the deep anguish can mingle so sweetly with an abiding trust in God’s providence and rescue. It has been my own saving grace when I am tempted to despair at the sight of all that is broken in this world.
I am reminded of St. Teresa of Calcutta’s reminder to “never let anything so fill us with sorrow that we forget the joy of Christ risen.” While that cannot be an excuse not to engage with the world or seek justice, peace, reconciliation, and an abundant life now, it helps to give me context to all the suffering. We come to the places of pain with a knowledge that this is not what God has desired for us, and that He has sacrificed everything to restore us in the eternal view of things. He pursues us like the Father running to greet the prodigal son, like the shepherd who leaves the 99 for the 1. He comes to us most intimately in those places of suffering, present in the “least of these,” in the “least” within us. Knowing this, we can cry out - in anger, in sorrow, in frustration, in angst, in seeming despair - without shame. He is already here in these places, His grace is at work within and around us, even if the world is not made right overnight. Even if we cannot say it is well with my soul at this moment, we can rest confident that all shall be well.