Middle School Angst Once Again

Deliver me, O LORD, by your hand from those whose portion in life is this world.  Psalm 17:14

This is one of those verses in the Bible that I have never particularly noticed before, but boy, oh boy, I sure know the type.  Mostly I think of them as the gaggle of screeching middle school girls who zipped right into voluptuous and have all the right clothes and the right curls to make the most of it.  And they rip right through their pimply scrunching peers with their red, red fingernails.  Deep down one realizes that this it.  This little group is going to slide right into dumpy and fat and eighth grade birthday parties in limos is the best it’s going to get for them, but dear Lord, deliver me.

Or when we get older it’s the ruthless smooth.  The one with the eye on the eight ball.  And somehow the table slants in his direction.  And it would be just too embarrassing to point that out, so I sort of sputter, and give it another stab, but end up muttering, “Oh that’s all right.” It really isn’t but it seems petty to argue.  And when I head down the staircase, I’m thinking, “I should have said, I should have said,” but really nothing comes to mind.  There was nothing to say.  His bases were covered.  No way he was going to lose because deep down he knows that this is it.  His moment of glory and at some moment soon it’s going to come crashing down and he will be alone with his in-home theatre and expresso machine.  

So, two prayer requests.  One.  LORD, You are my Shield.  You protect me from the darts of inadequacy and haplessness, because You are Enough and You are my Strength.  And You have my back on things that really matter, things of eternal consequence.  And may Max’s counsel also protect my heart.  “Don’t take it personally.”

Two.  LORD have mercy.  My heart is tender to these folks who have built their houses with an incomplete deck of cards; one lousy toss of the dice, and it all tumbles.  I know it.   Really they are not aware of other options.  It’s all they know.  And this they fear deep beneath the hard glint in their eye, that the trump card is missing.