Michael, Writer of Haikus he collects from moments between days, sent in this Beauty that graphically describes human query. “What’s your Title ?” I asked.
He replied,”‘Hope in our lament’? Though, ‘A Psalm of Lament‘* , has more advantage in simplicity…”
MICHAEL, U.K. loves Christ and Haikus…
Amazed by God’s faithfulness and grace, especially over long-term mental health problems, he finds God in the pages of Scripture and in cups of coffee. Psalm 139 is his favourite place in the Word.
*A PSALM OF LAMENT
In fire and grief Orphans are made Oh Lord, Your tears are in their hearts For You say “…visit orphans and widows in their troubles“ And, Lord, You do.
In isolation and despair Loneliness is made Oh Lord, You are so near For You say “…there is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother” And, Lord, You do.
In chaos and chemicals Addiction is made Oh Lord, You liberate For You say “He has sent Me to proclaim liberty to the captives…” And, Lord, You do.
In stress and exhaustion Breakdowns are made Oh Lord, Your compassion descends For You say“I will give them rest.” And, Lord, You do.
In greed and corruption Injustice is made Oh Lord, Your Spirit is fierce For You say “The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.” And, Lord, You do.
But we grieve for the orphan With tears that feel unceasing
We grieve for the friendless With such a cry of emptiness
We grieve for the addicted With such a raging storm within
We grieve for those burned-out in life With such a totality of weariness
And we grieve for the oppressed With such a cry of anguish and bewilderment
With all creation we groan for our deliverance We see no end to this suffering Before the New Heaven and New Earth And we wonder ‘do You even care?’ Oh, Lord, You do.
….
Written by Michael, U.K. “It is beautiful what we can learn (the rocks are what you climb on) but no less painful, though the Spirit alleviates.”
Photo Credit Marija R. Prague.
Thankyou Michael for your verse that wrings in Hope. You’ve startled me into staring at the Energy of God freely accessible to human need.
& other Places flowing thick off a beige covered Best seller that wouldn’t let me go. From Eden to hell, from Cain’s mess to Parables snuck like jewels in the dark, this Book held me by my irises.
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I was 13, I’d read every book there was to read in our school library. I’d re-read some old Readers Digest in the musty bookshelves where Dad worked by the sea; now he grinned as I sat hunched over these Beauties. This Bible was all mine, but:
no one had warned me of its power to grab.
“Read it,” they advised like It were necessary medication for a virus. Yes, they warned, you read it, you sleep well at night. No ghosts and spooks would bother with a Bible Reader. They never really told me of its teeny mustard armies that smashed mountains, Its valleys flooded neck high with Psalms; It’s Blood flowing crimson in my insides, not just for healing and goodies but for Its absolute value as irreplaceable Present Resurrective serial Power …..
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The Bible dared me to rise above asking It for quick answers to maths problems at school; It looked away when I had to have a toenail removed, as if Pain were a Date I’d understand, oh need to understand for future reference.
“I’m just a child,” I said to my Bible’s somber covers, and now and then I caught It sigh a sigh of relief, like It were asking me to stay that way. That it would hurt if I grew too much into borrowed intelligence. I did my best, but shoe sizes changed. Life was like that, everyone said.
I agreed, but reality was a trick. Is.
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Reality is wearing some else’s shoes because we often follow others’ short cuts. Reality is a lil pumpkin that cuts out its insides making believe it is not what it is.
The Bible went through many translations in my many shelves but It stalked my desert with me; It ran me into an Oasis here and there, till I went like a Deer panting away from dead seas to Living Waters;
It hurt that I hurt. It was there …. A Still small voice refusing to give in to my worry that It was just another nice Bestseller….aye sold out to every language in earth.
PicCredit Unsplash
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The Bible was News. Every morning It was my Dove with tender new Olive leaf, every noon and night and dawn It became my Warrior, fighting for me, against my own mind.
It is more than Page and Info. More than medicine and prophecy of good. It is Breathing Messages from my raw naked God plunging past my external rib into an interior I saw…
because the time had come to look and see and know that I was more than flesh and blood, I had a thing in me that beat to the rhythm of a Life beyond our everyday pursuit of peace and joy.
It rinsed my insides out and tripped me on a Rollercoaster with demons and archangels till I knew that I knew what we know deep within our absolute unlying awareness: the fact that Lies are often the best pointers to the Truth!
Life had better be more than just survival and healings & successes of all our job interviews and processes, and aches. These very aches were my servants, they served well. If I were healed of every ill and lived in a lotus pond with zero needs… would I have bothered about anything besides instantly being made comfortable again? Here my little knots are a mosaic of an Intelligence too much for me to even pretend to know.
The Bible is my irreplaceable Guide, the Fingerprint that writes me into Its tale of love and hate and peace and war but how the greatest of these is Love …. not so I can get better shoes but that I could feel it in my bones to love even a little like Christ would when He sees another with a wounded spirit.
Often healing is not even an option, love an extravagance. Often the best we can do is forgive the unforgivable/ bless when cursed or choose to react with compassion/ acceptance…
nothing in the world teaches me that like the Cross in the Bible. Nothing else teaches me to reach down and wash another’s feet, oh receive a slap with compassion.
To this day, this Mega Page Turner, leaves me asking for more…
here I defeat bears and lions and goliath, here Daniels den is a landmark of praise; oh here a tomb is empty, its mine….here I too rise and walk thru walls of disbelief.
There are days I do not visit It: and those are the times I am deaf and dumb and blind.
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Why the Bible is the Best Selling and most persecuted Book in the history of human existence.
Innerdialects 
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