I used to know how things worked, but I don’t anymore.
I guess, this is the moment you write a psalm.
A prayer that cries out to God, for all the injustices in the world.
The missed vacations, friends and fun.
The skipped memories, rituals and milestones.
My God, why does life work this way? Why can I look at a cheaper mortgage when others can’t pay the rent?
How is it I’m in the position of privilege, when we almost didn’t make it out of the last recession?
Lord I used to know how things went, we worked, the kids went to school, we tried to find time for socialization.
Now I discover the hidden histories that were in plain sight all along. I finally understand the racism that I’ve been trying to see for the last ten years.
Suddenly I’m understanding the economics of pastoral care and relationship.
Lord I am surrounded by fear and illness. My enemies spread discord and lies, and care nothing for the vulnerable.
I guess I’m writing this psalm, because psalms don’t resolve anything.
They just affirm that our God is the one who cares for every single person, our God does not even let a sparrow or a sparrow’s feather to drop without God’s knowledge.
They reflect that God is….somewhere…. shining through the cracks–showing us opportunities to be helpers, reminding us that when we are lucky: we need to care.
So here is my Psalm God, my crying out of obscenities at the injustices of the world, and my shaking of the fist at all those with hardened hearts.
Let every person have enough to eat, give every person a mask and the opportunity to stay safe, help us to stop being stupid.
Remind us to be as consistent as we can (something humans suck at) as we try to fight this pandemic. As it rips of the bandaids that we have put over racism, inequality, poverty, education and childcare and housing, help us to see the world as it is.
God, we are wounded and bleeding. Hear our cry.
We are begging for you God, to do your work. Please love all of your children, because some days that best I can do is get out of bed, shower, call someone and not sink back into depression.
Love doesn’t make the list as often as I wish, and thankfulness is not as dominant as I’d like. Heal me, save me I pray. Heal us, save us we pray.
I used to know how things worked, but I don’t anymore. So here is my Psalm.
Lord we used to know how things worked, but we don’t anymore, so here is our Psalm
Lord in your mercy.
Hear our Prayer.
Feel free to use as needed credit to Pastor Katy Stenta