Screaming At God
Some days, that’s all you got.
I have been spending quite a bit of time in the Psalms. More and more of that time is spent in Eugene Peterson’s, The Message. He gives words to my soul. Today it is Psalm 77 and it’s all I got.
I yell out to my God,
I yell with all my might,
I yell at the top of my lungs.
He listens.
I found myself in trouble
and went looking for my Lord;
my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.
When friends said,
“Everything will turn out all right,”
I didn’t believe a word they said.
I remember God — and shake my head.
I bow my head — then wring my hands.
I’m awake all night — not a wink of sleep;
I can’t even say what’s bothering me.
I go over the days one by one,
I ponder the years gone by.
I strum my lute all through the night,
wondering how to get my life together.
Will the Lord walk off and leave us for good?
Will he never smile again?
Is his love worn...