Devotions Archive
Archive:
1999
|
2000
|
2001
|
2002
|
2003
|
2004
|
2005
|
2006
|
2007
|
2008
|
2009
|
2010
|
2011
|
2012
|
2013
|
2014
|
2015
|
2016
|
2017
|
2018
|
2019
|
2020
|
2021
|
2022
|
2023
|
2024
There is a balm in GileadFriday, March 4, 2016
Hosea 14:2-4 And we ARE victims. Hosea says we are orphans. But when we deny our complicity in the chaos, we might as well bite our own lips, hit our own chests, cut our own forearms, and bang our own heads against the wall, all the while refusing to look in the mirror at the bruises we are giving ourselves. Sinners. We are. The ugliness we call "structural" stains my soul. I am part of it, and it is part of me. And I must speak up, especially to God. I cannot pretend I am above it all, or I die inside. David describes this plight in Psalm 32: "When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. Day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged the guilt of my sin ... And you forgave." When I speak, God listens. And when he speaks back to me, I remember once again "my hiding place, where he protects me from trouble and surrounds me with songs of deliverance." This hiding place, even as suffering and danger and abuse continue. This deliverance, even when my inner freedom is visible to no one but myself. God's absolutely certain goodness sings inside my soul, but it might not soothe or smooth my skin. The world seems to be getting worse and worse, even in the midst of my song. But this is where God's strength flows into us. Never forget we have allegiance to another world. We are all children of God. And we children need to sleep with bread together. When we separate from God and each other, we are truly orphans. But in the world God makes new every day, the truth is that we are one. Jesus calls out, "Hear o, Israel! Love the Lord your God, and love your neighbor as you care for yourself." We are in this all together. Lord, we take our lives into our own hands and stab each other rather than rub each other's back. Forgive me, Father, when in my mind and heart I turn and want to hurt rather than heal. All to protect myself. What a waste! Show me my sin, and teach me the art of confession, and forgive me, Lord. |