Look.

I try not to treat You like a divine vending machine- prayer in, need out,

photo of night sky
Photo by faaiq ackmerd on Pexels.com

But in the present situation, that awareness means my prayers are more along the lines:

“FFFFF#$)*#0&&#$(&(*^&(#^&^$()*@&#)(*@&&@!#(*&!!!!!”

That’s me releasing a fraction of my deep feelings into the deep and wide well that is the Holy Repository for Grief and Frustration.

Between You and me, though, that’s not cutting it right now on the human end.

I guess I’m saying I want a little less talk and a lot more action.

(Of course, You’re probably saying the same thing to me.)

Noted.

Maybe Your vastness is the problem. Maybe if You had a hard limit, this would be easier because shifting our rage and impotence and pain and hurt would eventually fill Your repository and then maybe there would be something, somewhere, somehow that would seem like the justice that I believe can only come from You.

I thought about asking for intercessions from Hagar, Bilhah, Zilpah, and Bathsheba, but then the Holy Spirit reminded me that a modern white woman should not be seeking assistance from brown and black women of the past or the present. That equation has been imbalanced for too long.

So, I’m here- seeking the Source of All Things- wondering, in the midst of this fresh (and so very old) hell, when do we receive fresh heaven?

When will there be a sense of heaven coming down to earth?

When will all things be made new?

Because this present reality of nothing new under the sun is crushing us- our spirits, our wills, our hopes.

And when we cry out to You and only hear the echo of our own voices…

It hurts.

The echo mocks us, twisting the sounds of our voices and sounding like laughter from the forces that oppose you. (We renounce them!)

Taking for granted the underlying nature of the Divine Character, I am trusting that there is wholeness and rest for the Levite’s Concubine. That You know her name. That she is still being consoled.

But I bet she’d have liked not to have had such a shitty experience. Period.

Eternal consolation may not be enough for painful, physical humiliation and death- plus any moments of feeling abandoned by You.

Before this floats into the abyss of all prayers, I hope You receive this.

And, mercifully and speedily, answer me.

Amen.

 


The Reverend Julia Seymour serves Lutheran Church of Hope in Anchorage, AK. She blogs at lutheranjulia.blogspot.com and readsallthethings.com. She contributed to There’s A Woman in the Pulpit.


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