MONDAY WAS A TOUGH DAY for me. Emotionally.
I blogged that wrenching Bible Q&A from a friend of mine in terrible physical pain. Nancy L: ‘I wish I could just die.’
Then I got emails and private messages from others—friends as well as strangers—who were dealing with similar pain troubles.
Today, I feel blue, like Kansas City jazz I’ve listened to on 18th and Vine.
The Bible has song lyrics that would work well with all that jazz.
Lyrics that reflect the weary cry of Nancy L. and others I heard from yesterday.
Lyrics that complain to God—even about God.
Yet lyrics that reflect a clinging to God—and a hope that he’ll save the suffering soul.
Take a listen to snippets of Psalm 69, as paraphrased by The Message.
I can almost hear the music. There’s an alto sax playing somewhere.
God, God, save me!
I’m in over my head,
Quicksand under me, swamp water over me;
I’m going down for the third time.
I’m hoarse from calling for help,
Bleary-eyed from searching the sky for God.
Because of you I look like an idiot,
I walk around ashamed to show my face.
Drunks and gluttons
Make up drinking songs about me.
And me? I pray.
God, it’s time for a break!
God, answer in love!
Answer with your sure salvation!
Rescue me from the swamp,
Don’t let me go under for good,
Don’t let the swamp be my grave, the Black Hole
Swallow me, its jaws clenched around me.
Now answer me, God, because you love me;
Let me see your great mercy full-face.
Don’t look the other way; your servant can’t take it.
I’m in trouble. Answer right now!
Come close, God; get me out of here.
Rescue me from this deathtrap.
I’m hurt and in pain;
Give me space for healing, and mountain air.
Let me shout God’s name with a praising song,
Let me tell his greatness in a prayer of thanks.
For God listens to the poor,
He doesn’t walk out on the wretched.
You heavens, praise him; praise him, earth.
For those in physical pain, like Nancy L., there will come a time for praising.
But first, the complaint.
Next, the doc who knows how to write a script that makes a difference.
I remember my bike wreck on Whistler Mountain a few years ago. Two broken collar bones. Several broken ribs. One punctured lung.
I had never really thanked God for all it’s worth until I felt the morphine pulsing into me.
Grace by IV. Mellow mercy. Mercy me.