There comes a season in every soul when the Goodness of Creation turns sour. “God,” says the writer of Lamentations, “is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in hiding,” preparing to devour.
The day arrives when flesh wastes away and bones are broken; when I am besieged and beset; when I am walled about and chained.
Who but the Sovereign could bring such affliction, when my teeth grind on gravel, when my lips are pressed into the dust, when I am made to cower in ashes?
Who but the Maker could close the portal of heaven to my prayers?
Am I nothing more than a mark for Heaven’s Archer?
My eyes will flow without ceasing until the Ruler of Glory looks down and sees.
But this I call to mind, giving rise to hope:
The steadfast love of God never ceases; the Blessed One’s mercies never end.
They are new every morning, for great is your faithfulness.
Precious are you, Lord above all lords, for you are my portion.
When human rights are trampled, when justice is denied, the Righteous One sees!
Listen for the Voice of Assurance: “Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!”
For the Beloved is more taken with the agony of the earth than with the ecstasy of heaven.
©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Lamentations 3.