My God, You are my King. Your commands led Jacob's people to victory. With Your help we pushed back our enemies. In Your name we trampled those who came against us. I don't trust my bow to help me, and my sword can't save me. You saved us from our foes, and You made our enemies ashamed. We will praise God every day; we will praise Your name forever.
But You have rejected us and shamed us. You don't march with our armies anymore. You let our enemies push us back, and those who hate us have taken our wealth. You gave us away like sheep to be eaten and have scattered us among the nations. You sold Your people for nothing and made no profit from the sale. (vs. 4-12)
What happens when God feels light years away from your circumstances? Things have gone horribly wrong and we don't get it. What do we do when God doesn't "march with our armies" anymore? Of course, this is speaking of the nation of Israel in this psalm. Sold once into Babylon. Sold once again into Auschwitz. How is it that God in heaven allows such carnage?
We, His children, experience devastation, also. With children who rebel or worse. Disease. Abandonment. Loss. When mothers leave for another man, abandoning the family. The dream you saw before you vanishes without a trace. The list goes on and on. And we have to compare this to the times when God was our shield and protector. With the knowledge that only He can bring victory. We don't trust our own devices to do what only He can do.
There was a time in my life when my mother was dying of cancer, my father was arrested for pedophilia and my husband was preoccupied with a trial, the outcome of which would determine the future of his company. This on the heels of a surprise pregnancy that produced a much-loved son. A job for Bill that had been a dream come true because he pioneered a new method of home building. My daughters were thriving. My first book had been published. Camelot.
So what do we do with the vacuums? How do we define His relationship to us when we feel He has moved so far away? I screwed up. I hope I wouldn't again because I know He never moves very far away. How do I know that? Christ.
There was the one with the withered hand whose fingers wriggled free with His touch. Lazarus, the walking dead, buried for days, emerged from the tomb at the command of Jesus. Lame walked, deaf heard, demons fled. Victory after victory. Yet on the day He hung bloodied and beaten, naked and writhing on the cross that saved us, He cried out, "Father, why have You forsaken Me?"
Why, indeed. Because God is always involved in His plan for the universe. Because every cross has a resurrection. Because even an Auschwitz can create a new nation on ground not possessed by God's people for two thousand years. In my own "silent" years, my God taught me about judgment. He showed me that mercy triumphs over it. He showed me that times with Him face down are the most important hours of my life. I searched for Him in the silence. Cried out for His presence. Never again will I take for granted the presence of my God.
But You have rejected us and shamed us. You don't march with our armies anymore. You let our enemies push us back, and those who hate us have taken our wealth. You gave us away like sheep to be eaten and have scattered us among the nations. You sold Your people for nothing and made no profit from the sale. (vs. 4-12)
What happens when God feels light years away from your circumstances? Things have gone horribly wrong and we don't get it. What do we do when God doesn't "march with our armies" anymore? Of course, this is speaking of the nation of Israel in this psalm. Sold once into Babylon. Sold once again into Auschwitz. How is it that God in heaven allows such carnage?
We, His children, experience devastation, also. With children who rebel or worse. Disease. Abandonment. Loss. When mothers leave for another man, abandoning the family. The dream you saw before you vanishes without a trace. The list goes on and on. And we have to compare this to the times when God was our shield and protector. With the knowledge that only He can bring victory. We don't trust our own devices to do what only He can do.
There was a time in my life when my mother was dying of cancer, my father was arrested for pedophilia and my husband was preoccupied with a trial, the outcome of which would determine the future of his company. This on the heels of a surprise pregnancy that produced a much-loved son. A job for Bill that had been a dream come true because he pioneered a new method of home building. My daughters were thriving. My first book had been published. Camelot.
So what do we do with the vacuums? How do we define His relationship to us when we feel He has moved so far away? I screwed up. I hope I wouldn't again because I know He never moves very far away. How do I know that? Christ.
There was the one with the withered hand whose fingers wriggled free with His touch. Lazarus, the walking dead, buried for days, emerged from the tomb at the command of Jesus. Lame walked, deaf heard, demons fled. Victory after victory. Yet on the day He hung bloodied and beaten, naked and writhing on the cross that saved us, He cried out, "Father, why have You forsaken Me?"
Why, indeed. Because God is always involved in His plan for the universe. Because every cross has a resurrection. Because even an Auschwitz can create a new nation on ground not possessed by God's people for two thousand years. In my own "silent" years, my God taught me about judgment. He showed me that mercy triumphs over it. He showed me that times with Him face down are the most important hours of my life. I searched for Him in the silence. Cried out for His presence. Never again will I take for granted the presence of my God.
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