Study Desk

Don't blame us for the sins of our parents. Hurry up and help us; we're at the end of our rope. You're famous for helping; God, give us a break. Your reputation is on the line. Pull us out of this mess, forgive us our sins— do what you're famous for doing! Don't let the heathen get by with their sneers: "Where's your God? Is he out to lunch?" Go public and show the godless world that they can't kill your servants and get by with it.

Give groaning prisoners a hearing; pardon those on death row from their doom—you can do it! Give our jeering neighbors what they've got coming to them; let their God-taunts boomerang and knock them flat. Then we, your people, the ones you love and care for, will thank you over and over and over. We'll tell everyone we meet how wonderful you are, how praiseworthy you are!

God , God-of-the-Angel-Armies, how long will you smolder like a sleeping volcano while your people call for fire and brimstone? You put us on a diet of tears, bucket after bucket of salty tears to drink. You make us look ridiculous to our friends; our enemies poke fun day after day.

Remember how you brought a young vine from Egypt, cleared out the brambles and briers and planted your very own vineyard? You prepared the good earth, you planted her roots deep; the vineyard filled the land. Your vine soared high and shaded the mountains, even dwarfing the giant cedars. Your vine ranged west to the Sea, east to the River. So why do you no longer protect your vine? Trespassers pick its grapes at will; Wild pigs crash through and crush it, and the mice nibble away at what's left. God-of-the-Angel-Armies, turn our way! Take a good look at what's happened and attend to this vine. Care for what you once tenderly planted— the vine you raised from a shoot. And those who dared to set it on fire— give them a look that will kill! Then take the hand of your once-favorite child, the child you raised to adulthood. We will never turn our back on you; breathe life into our lungs so we can shout your name!

"Enough! You've corrupted justice long enough, you've let the wicked get away with murder. You're here to defend the defenseless, to make sure that underdogs get a fair break; Your job is to stand up for the powerless, and prosecute all those who exploit them."

Do to them what you did to Midian, to Sisera and Jabin at Kishon Brook; They came to a bad end at Endor, nothing but dung for the garden. Cut down their leaders as you did Oreb and Zeeb, their princes to nothings like Zebah and Zalmunna, With their empty brags, "We're grabbing it all, grabbing God's gardens for ourselves."

My God! I've had it with them! Blow them away! Tumbleweeds in the desert waste, charred sticks in the burned-over ground. Knock the breath right out of them, so they're gasping for breath, gasping, " God ." Bring them to the end of their rope, and leave them there dangling, helpless. Then they'll learn your name: " God ," the one and only High God on earth.

A Korah Psalm What a beautiful home, God -of-the-Angel-Armies! I've always longed to live in a place like this, Always dreamed of a room in your house, where I could sing for joy to God-alive!

I can't wait to hear what he'll say. God 's about to pronounce his people well, The holy people he loves so much, so they'll never again live like fools. See how close his salvation is to those who fear him? Our country is home base for Glory!

Love and Truth meet in the street, Right Living and Whole Living embrace and kiss! Truth sprouts green from the ground, Right Living pours down from the skies! Oh yes! God gives Goodness and Beauty; our land responds with Bounty and Blessing. Right Living strides out before him, and clears a path for his passage.

A David Psalm Bend an ear, God ; answer me. I'm one miserable wretch! Keep me safe—haven't I lived a good life? Help your servant—I'm depending on you! You're my God; have mercy on me. I count on you from morning to night. Give your servant a happy life; I put myself in your hands! You're well-known as good and forgiving, bighearted to all who ask for help. Pay attention, God , to my prayer; bend down and listen to my cry for help. Every time I'm in trouble I call on you, confident that you'll answer.

A Korah Prayer of Heman God , you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you. Put me on your salvation agenda; take notes on the trouble I'm in. I've had my fill of trouble; I'm camped on the edge of hell. I'm written off as a lost cause, one more statistic, a hopeless case. Abandoned as already dead, one more body in a stack of corpses, And not so much as a gravestone— I'm a black hole in oblivion. You've dropped me into a bottomless pit, sunk me in a pitch-black abyss. I'm battered senseless by your rage, relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger. You turned my friends against me, made me horrible to them. I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out, blinded by tears of pain and frustration. I call to you, God ; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory? I'm standing my ground, God , shouting for help, at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak. Why, God , do you turn a deaf ear? Why do you make yourself scarce? For as long as I remember I've been hurting; I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it. Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life; I'm bleeding, black-and-blue. You've attacked me fiercely from every side, raining down blows till I'm nearly dead. You made lover and neighbor alike dump me; the only friend I have left is Darkness.

class="psalm-title"> A Korah Prayer of Heman God , you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you. Put me on your salvation agenda; take notes on the trouble I'm in. I've had my fill of trouble; I'm camped on the edge of hell. I'm written off as a lost cause, one more statistic, a hopeless case. Abandoned as already dead, one more body in a stack of corpses, And not so much as a gravestone— I'm a black hole in oblivion. You've dropped me into a bottomless pit, sunk me in a pitch-black abyss. I'm battered senseless by your rage, relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger. You turned my friends against me, made me horrible to them. I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out, blinded by tears of pain and frustration. I call to you, God ; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory? I'm standing my ground, God , shouting for help, at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak. Why, God , do you turn a deaf ear? Why do you make yourself scarce? For as long as I remember I've been hurting; I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it. Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life; I'm bleeding, black-and-blue. You've attacked me fiercely from every side, raining down blows till I'm nearly dead. You made lover and neighbor alike dump me; the only friend I have left is Darkness.

class="psalm-title"> A Korah Prayer of Heman God , you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you. Put me on your salvation agenda; take notes on the trouble I'm in. I've had my fill of trouble; I'm camped on the edge of hell. I'm written off as a lost cause, one more statistic, a hopeless case. Abandoned as already dead, one more body in a stack of corpses, And not so much as a gravestone— I'm a black hole in oblivion. You've dropped me into a bottomless pit, sunk me in a pitch-black abyss. I'm battered senseless by your rage, relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger. You turned my friends against me, made me horrible to them. I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out, blinded by tears of pain and frustration. I call to you, God ; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory? I'm standing my ground, God , shouting for help, at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak. Why, God , do you turn a deaf ear? Why do you make yourself scarce? For as long as I remember I've been hurting; I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it. Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life; I'm bleeding, black-and-blue. You've attacked me fiercely from every side, raining down blows till I'm nearly dead. You made lover and neighbor alike dump me; the only friend I have left is Darkness.

class="psalm-title"> A Korah Prayer of Heman God , you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you. Put me on your salvation agenda; take notes on the trouble I'm in. I've had my fill of trouble; I'm camped on the edge of hell. I'm written off as a lost cause, one more statistic, a hopeless case. Abandoned as already dead, one more body in a stack of corpses, And not so much as a gravestone— I'm a black hole in oblivion. You've dropped me into a bottomless pit, sunk me in a pitch-black abyss. I'm battered senseless by your rage, relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger. You turned my friends against me, made me horrible to them. I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out, blinded by tears of pain and frustration. I call to you, God ; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

I'm standing my ground, God , shouting for help, at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak. Why, God , do you turn a deaf ear? Why do you make yourself scarce? For as long as I remember I've been hurting; I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it. Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life; I'm bleeding, black-and-blue. You've attacked me fiercely from every side, raining down blows till I'm nearly dead. You made lover and neighbor alike dump me; the only friend I have left is Darkness.

A long time ago you spoke in a vision, you spoke to your faithful beloved: "I've crowned a hero, I chose the best I could find; I found David, my servant, poured holy oil on his head, And I'll keep my hand steadily on him, yes, I'll stick with him through thick and thin. No enemy will get the best of him, no scoundrel will do him in. I'll weed out all who oppose him, I'll clean out all who hate him. I'm with him for good and I'll love him forever; I've set him on high—he's riding high! I've put Ocean in his one hand, River in the other; he'll call out, ‘Oh, my Father—my God, my Rock of Salvation!' Yes, I'm setting him apart as the First of the royal line, High King over all of earth's kings. I'll preserve him eternally in my love, I'll faithfully do all I so solemnly promised. I'll guarantee his family tree and underwrite his rule. If his children refuse to do what I tell them, if they refuse to walk in the way I show them, If they spit on the directions I give them and tear up the rules I post for them— I'll rub their faces in the dirt of their rebellion and make them face the music. But I'll never throw them out, never abandon or disown them. Do you think I'd withdraw my holy promise? or take back words I'd already spoken? I've given my word, my whole and holy word; do you think I would lie to David? His family tree is here for good, his sovereignty as sure as the sun, Dependable as the phases of the moon, inescapable as weather."

But God , you did walk off and leave us, you lost your temper with the one you anointed. You tore up the promise you made to your servant, you stomped his crown in the mud. You blasted his home to kingdom come, reduced his city to a pile of rubble Picked clean by wayfaring strangers, a joke to all the neighbors. You declared a holiday for all his enemies, and they're celebrating for all they're worth. Angry, you opposed him in battle, refused to fight on his side; You robbed him of his splendor, humiliated this warrior, ground his kingly honor in the dirt. You took the best years of his life and left him an impotent, ruined husk. How long do we put up with this, God ? Are you gone for good? Will you hold this grudge forever? Remember my sorrow and how short life is. Did you create men and women for nothing but this? We'll see death soon enough. Everyone does. And there's no back door out of hell. So where is the love you're so famous for, Lord? What happened to your promise to David? Take a good look at your servant, dear Lord; I'm the butt of the jokes of all nations, The taunting jokes of your enemies, God , as they dog the steps of your dear anointed.

So don't return us to mud, saying, "Back to where you came from!" Patience! You've got all the time in the world—whether a thousand years or a day, it's all the same to you. Are we no more to you than a wispy dream, no more than a blade of grass That springs up gloriously with the rising sun and is cut down without a second thought? Your anger is far and away too much for us; we're at the end of our rope. You keep track of all our sins; every misdeed since we were children is entered in your books. All we can remember is that frown on your face. Is that all we're ever going to get? We live for seventy years or so (with luck we might make it to eighty), And what do we have to show for it? Trouble. Toil and trouble and a marker in the graveyard. Who can make sense of such rage, such anger against the very ones who fear you?

Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well! Come back, God —how long do we have to wait?— and treat your servants with kindness for a change. Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we'll skip and dance all the day long. Make up for the bad times with some good times; we've seen enough evil to last a lifetime. Let your servants see what you're best at— the ways you rule and bless your children. And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do!