The tales of hundreds of thousands of people fleeing in the Ivory Coast. A tiny blip on the news screen that holds our Western attention for a moment or two, and then disappears as we return our attention to how many shoes Elizabeth Taylor actually owned.
How long, O LORD, to sing this song.
My finite mind cannot grasp God’s sense of justice. Max once said that the very concept of justice was so far out of the natural materialistic stream of things that its very existence revealed a God.
As I join with the Psalmist, was he shaking his fist? How long? Or the souls of the martyrs under the Revelation altar crying out for justice? They are told to wait a little longer.
Tied up into all of this, of course, is a God who is merciful; who is not willing that any should be lost. And somehow, at the end, when all the tears shall be no more, there will be justice.
So until that day, I can but be a gap-filler. And I sought for a man among them that should make up the hedge and stand in the gap before Me for the land. And to set before me, daily, what is good: And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.’
And to wait. Trying to balance justice and mercy in a humble heart.
Dear LORD, let me not lose hope. Hope in Your goodness and wisdom. In Your love. If You have not revealed these concepts to me, who then? The longing in our heart for You and Your ways. My heart is fixed, O LORD, firmly fixed. I will sing and make melody. Wake up, my spirit; awake. May Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
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