How long?

Why, LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?

Mothers and sons torn apart by deathly virus and murderous violence. Hearts bleeding with grief, again and again. Terror, darkness, despair. How long, O Lord?

His mouth is filled with cursing and deceit and oppression; under his tongue are mischief and iniquity. He sits in ambush in the villages; in hiding places he murders the innocent. His eyes stealthily watch for the helpless; he lurks in ambush like a lion in his thicket; he lurks that he may seize the poor; he seizes the poor when he draws him into his net. The helpless are cursed, sink down, and fall by his might.

So it has always been. From the time when Cain hated his brother to death until now. Country lanes and city streets, homes and school playgrounds. Darkness covers the choking of life. Evil is embedded in us, pressed down through generations.

It is right to be disturbed at the murderous cursing, deceit and oppression that we see in our world.

But, also: Is it I, Lord?

Cursing not only in others, but in the quickly rising anger when my plans are thwarted or my comforts threatened. Cursing as I cast stones though I sin in similar ways. Cursing as I look down on others and consider my perspective the right one - automatically, without even realizing I’m doing it.

Deceit not only in others, but in my willingness to be seen as righteous or wise. Deceit in instinctively cultivating an image that allows dark pockets to stay hidden in my heart. Subtle deceit perhaps even while writing a prayer-lament which I will soon publicly post.

Oppression not only in others but in my apathy when it seems too much to bear or infringes too much on my comfort. Oppression in whatever I’m grasping and don’t even realize it because I don’t want to see. Oppression in my paralysis when I see some of the complexities and don’t want to enter in because I may over-simplify and get it wrong.

I do cry mercy for the oppressed and justice for the oppressor. I also know that I am not innocent.

But you do see, for you note mischief and vexation, that you may take it into your hands. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless. Break the arm of the wicked and evildoer; call the evildoer to account for his wickedness that would not otherwise be found out.

Call the evildoer to account…as the psalmist cried so many years ago, so people cry today. But what a way you have chosen to bring justice to evildoers.

Jesus, you also were hated to death, the breath slowly pressed out of you, by oppressors trying to hold on to their power. You were killed by evil that was both systemic and personal. Your bones were broken. But the arm of the wicked is broken by your death. Somehow, in ways beyond our understanding, the accounting we cry out for was accomplished on the cross. You are not, after all, standing far off. You are not hiding yourself.

O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted; you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed, so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more.

We are afflicted. Our hearts are weak. The fatherless and the oppressed grieve deeply. Man strikes terror. In the natural course of this fallen world, evil leads to more evil. I hurt you because you hurt me, on and on and on, digging a deepening hole that we cannot, on our own, climb out of. We are right to seek justice. And we have glimpses of hope - luminous, glorious movements of forgiveness and love break through. But we know that the depth of evil and grief is beyond our capacity to change. We are utterly dependent on you to be the deliverer and the judge.

Arise, O LORD; O God, lift up your hand; forget not the afflicted.

Our eyes are on you.

Lord, have mercy.

(Italicized text from Psalm 10)