How long, O Lord?
How long will you hide your face from us?
How long will we have perplexity in our minds, anger in our veins, grief in our heart, day after day?
How long will our enemies – racism and violence, apathy and hardness of heart – triumph over us?
How long will we have to watch black men being shot as if they were prey? How long will we have to witness communities explode with ancient fires, fueled by centuries of oppression and hate? How long will we have to suffer the indignity of seeing the powerful get (and get away with) whatever they want and the powerless get nothing but blame?
How long, O Lord? How long?
Longer than I would like.
Longer than I imagined when I breathed the world into being.
Longer than I ever knew when I chose Abraham, or spoke to Moses, or anointed David.
Longer than I thought possible when I joked with Sarah, or comforted Rachel, or loved Ruth.
Longer than I foresaw when I sent an angel and then my Spirit and then my Son.
Longer than I have ever wanted for you, my loves.
I see you, questioning with exhausted eyes. I see you, cupping your hands around the feeble flickering of your hope. I see you, asking – how long can this flame last, and what good is it against this darkness? What good among these, O me, O life?
That you are here – that life exists, and identity.
That I am with you – that Grace exists, and faith, hope, and love.
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
That the powerful play goes on, and you and I may contribute a verse –
a verse of justice, mercy, truth, and love that will shine with the light of a thousand suns.
And the night
Yours in Christ,
Quotations/inspirations from Psalm 13, Walt Whitman, and Dead Poets Society.