Maranatha
O God, the nations have invaded your inheritance;
they have defiled your holy temple,
they have reduced Jerusalem to rubble.
They have left the dead bodies of your servants
as food for the birds of the sky,
the flesh of your own people for the animals of the wild.
They have poured out blood like water
all around Jerusalem,
and there is no one to bury the dead.
We are objects of contempt to our neighbors, of scorn and derision to those around us.
How long, Lord? Will you be angry forever?
How long will your jealousy burn like fire?
Pour out your wrath on the nations
that do not acknowledge you, on the kingdoms that do not call on your name;
for they have devoured Jacob
and devastated his homeland.
Do not hold against us the sins of past generations;
may your mercy come quickly to meet us,
for we are in desperate need.
Help us, God our Savior,
for the glory of your name;
deliver us and forgive our sins
for your name’s sake.
These have been a particularly weighty few months and weeks. Turning on the news or scrolling social media is downright depressing. These are days of overwhelming brokenness: innocent children in schools gunned down, civilians caught in wars beyond their control, voices silenced in ways we thought unimaginable. And in the midst of all the global strife, and national news we too, have much to lament in terms of illness, loss of life, broken relationships, and daily struggles happening right here within our church family.
I do not believe it’s a coincidence that Psalm 79:1-9 is one of today’s lectionary texts. This Psalm is a cry from a people devastated: Jerusalem has been destroyed, the temple defiled, the dead strewn about unburied, and the nations go on mocking. Asaph, the psalmwriter, cries out, “How long, Lord?… we are in desperate need.” In this case, it doesn’t take much imagination to put ourselves in the sandals of the psalmist: surrounded by chaos, by insults, and by violence that threatens our peace and sense of justice. And although lament may seem foreign at times, in times like these, it is perfectly natural and reasonable to cry out: Where is God? Does he even care? How long must this endure? Will it ever end?
Yet somehow, beneath the lament, faith remains. The writer doesn’t pretend everything is fine—he mourns, he remembers—but he also believes God can act, heal, restore. This is true faith. Not only trusting in God when life is “all sunshine and roses” but clinging to the hope of God’s promises even whilst sitting in the darkest depths of despair.
Every innocent life lost, every act of violence, every injustice, every pain is seen and known by God. And while we grasp for understanding and comfort, though God seems so far off, the story of scripture is clear. God does not turn away. Time and time again throughout the scriptures, God demonstrates that his heart is not set on destruction, but rather, restoration and healing. And so we must mourn together, intercede together, care for one another, and stand against hatred and violence not with more hate, but with love, compassion, truth, and faith that Christ will come again as he promised, and will make all the wrong things right, and the dark things bright.
Maranatha. Come quickly Lord Jesus.