Three Psalms for When It Seems Nothing Is As It Should Be
Psalm 12—Our shepherd neither sleeps nor slumbers.
The good are gone, Lord. The faithful who carry The candle of your name Have fled. I looked for them And found only smoke rising. Everyone left lies; They flatter their fellows Only to devour them like wolves. They scheme and bite And trumpet the very things That should make them mourn And change their lives. Save us. O God of words, Silence the tongues That wag before you, As though the world before our eyes Were the only world. “I have seen the poor plundered,” Says the Lord. “I have heard The groans beyond words. I know the grief that bends you double. I have felt the lash And rack of the wicked. So now I will bring the broken home, And place them in the shelter They long for.” These are the words of the Lord. There is no dross in them, Only holy silver. Lord, your remnant is not lost. Though the wolves bound around us Like wind whipping the edges of the flock, Our shepherd neither sleeps nor slumbers.
Psalm 14—At night, they grind panicseed between dull teeth and wake gasping, thinking they have heard a voice.
Every fool knows God is gone, So they give themselves to things They can’t come back from; Feed themselves on limelight; Live by the hope of moving on. Like everyone who has sold themselves, They insist it was worth it. The Lord looks down to see If anyone has yet let Goodness creep up on them, Yet felt sorrow set Stripes in their repentance, But he sees knurled knuckle hearts, Hearts that snarl, hearts far gone. Not even one is ready to do good. They tell themselves they’ve tallied God— Totted up his promises, but none solved, None stacked against his wrongs; All yielded impossible sums Only a fool would count on. None call upon the Lord, but Rather would eat God’s people As one devours an oyster. They would pry open our inner parts And swallow us down with sauces. They laugh at jokes that aren’t there, And hollow themselves like bird bones. At night, they grind panicseed Between dull teeth and wake gasping, Thinking they have heard a voice. But God is a falcon. God has claws on. His silence is a hunting hawk. His wing shadow passes over The weak, marks them. His nearness is their refuge. His dread dives all down wilder. His love is with them, prowling wider. Oh, that salvation would find us, Fall on us, hem us in, Scatter back this rabble, And make us glad again.
Psalm 54—He will not leave me alone, stranded, strangled, and caught.
Fly toward me, God. I am hidden here Awaiting the last thing That could save me. Hear me, God. My only thoughts Are prayers. My only hope Is that you would answer And rush to my side. I am hunted by people I don’t know. I am sought by those who Seek to take my life. Yet, I have set God before me, My last long hope. My God is my help. If I lean my needs onto him, He will not disappoint me. He will not leave me alone, stranded, Strangled, and caught. I wish that evil would collapse Back on those who did evil to me. I wish their lies would fall To pieces beneath the weight Of your vaster truth. So here I am. Ready To sacrifice, ready to praise. I know that you will end the story When it ought to be ended And not before. I know that you have saved me And will again.
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