Listen Lord: We Hate it Here - Day Six
Prayers from God’s Children who bear the wounds of social judgment
Yesterday morning, I woke up to my son standing over me, staring at me in sadness with a touch of dread. I thought he had touched my shoulder and asked him if he had. He replied sheepishly “no I didn’t. I’m sorry Mommy.” “What was that then?” I said. He gave no answer. “Moses, what was that?” ……………“A big bug.”
St. Louis people know the frustrating reality of house centipedes showing up in random places after the rain. The freakout was loud among us that day. We were immediately un-drowsy, up and out with haste. Told that creature to enjoy its new home.
Somehow Jesus was able to sleep through a storm, on a pillow, with crashing waves that almost capsized the boat. I’m trying to get to that good rest.
In Matthew chapter 8, events are piled up just before Jesus and the disciples cross the lake. He was lying on a cushion, worn out by the hours past and the days to come. But when the disciples yelled at him, he answered “oh ye of little faith” like even his sleeping presence could keep His companions safe. I know this is a story about Jesus calming the storm. But His words make me wonder if the Lord was thinking “Y’all didn’t really need to wake me.”
Like maybe the move was to lie down beside him. The old song says “Hide me! O my Savior, hide! ‘Til the storm of life is passed” and look… that’s what people in the struggle are feeling this morning. God’s children who work in medicine, education, childcare, public transportation, waste management and other essential services, would they rather yell or sleep? God’s children who feel their feelings, love and live “differently”, the grievers and criers, the anxious ones, those who society labels as “different” or “too much”, I wonder if we’d rather sleep or yell. Thomas Dorsey wrote “Like a ship tossed and driven, battered by the angry sea, when the storms of life are raging and their fury falls on me.”
Maybe you know by now that Jesus is in your boat, and you can already feel the Spirit. Maybe you need to save and repeat those lines.
I am sitting still this morning remembering the same. Also remembering that my son was really about to let me sleep through that mini-storm yesterday! He told me “it wasn’t hurting anything, and I didn’t feel afraid.” Cool how his little mind works, but also, man i don’t know. I don’t know if I’d prefer to sleep through it, or be yelled awake. But I know that in these storms we face in every place on this day? I know it’s only a good God who is strong enough to hold you through either response.
Whether you curl up next to the Lord, or ask Him honestly and loudly “DON’T YOU CARE?”, He will answer you. Because the rest of God is active, it’s refuge and healing and purposeful. So even in His sleep, the Lord is listening.
Let’s pray together.
Lord we are slowly making our way to You this morning. Feels like we are hanging over the mouth of hell, we often love our spiritual distance too well. But you told us to come to You, told us there’s no sleep to be had for the once who watches over these Your children. And we are striving to believe in this word, we are holding on to the last strings of hope as they grow thinner than our nerves. This morning we are joining with the prayers of Your children who bear the wounds of being judged. Will you gather us in like a family? Would you make it possible for us to hear each other calling to You? And O Lord, if You please, would You listen.
Listen Lord: we are Trans and Gender non-conforming. We fight with our very lives to bear the truth of Your image in us. We suffer the cruelty of ignorance, the prejudice of fear, and the silence of injustice. We mourn the gender labels that force millions of light-bearers to hide their shine under gendered labels. We call on the One who refused to be named by human titles and declared Yourself to be "I Am That I Am", we ask You to hear the cries of Your children here. We feel alone in our battles and carry the weight of each peaceful warrior who died daring to live their truth out loud. We suffer all the day long, and so we hate it here.
Listen Lord: we are afraid. So afraid that we are embarrassed to admit how deeply our fears run. We are exposed nerves. We are sensitive to popular positivity’s admonishment to natural resilience, and assumptions thereof. We are scared off from honesty, lost in lack of socially acceptable expression. Everyone telling us “don’t panic” only convinces us that panic is the only responsible measure we ought to take. We are providers for our loved ones who don’t know how we will provide. We are undocumented people in hiding for fear of ICE raids. We are the friends who already struggle with panic attacks, who can’t be calmed down on command. We’re scared by our own shadows. We hear our faith-family members encouraging us that you’re with us and we can cling to that hope. But our grip is weak, our hearts are weary, and we only see doomsday scenarios when we close our eyes to meditate, so we hate it here.
Listen Lord: we are depressed. We are far from loved ones. We carry mental illness and countless invisible wounds. We are haunted with thoughts of ending our lives. While we’ve been islands of isolation in seas full of people, we are even more lonely these days, and we struggle to find our way to You, the center of our reality. See us where we are dear Lord. Walk with us through the fog until we reach the other side. Because sometimes all of the clouds are gray and there’s no such thing as a silver lining. We hate it here.
Lord God, we are asking you this morning— lead us on the way to healing. Put our eyes to the telescope of eternity and let us look upon the paper walls of time. Transfuse our bitter blood with Your precious flow of mercy. Hide us in Your bosom until the storm is passed, make room for us on Your cushion and cover us with that Spirit of sweet sleep. Would You teach us to trust you, Lord? Would You teach us to tarry for your wisdom? If you’re willing this morning, O Lord God, let us know that You are listening, and teach us to listen too.
Scriptures: Psalm 131 // Ecclesiastes 2
Stories of the Saints: Bayard Rustin
https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/rustin-bayard
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/05/us/bayard-rustin-pardon.html
Sacred Songs
And We Are Glad, Joe Pace
The Lord Will Make A Way Somehow, Hezekiah Walker perf.
Love and Hate, Michael Kiwanuka
Images: Noa Denman // Ibeanana Bart