Psalm 60 and Psalm 108
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I have been set between two warring factions,
Each is dear to my heart.
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I stand between the two and push each back,
Trying in the physical to do that,
Which only the spiritual can change.
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The anger and violence that explodes is frightening,
It cannot continue – it must not.
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One faction leaves in rage,
Tainting the lives of those left behind.
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I grieve.
I grieve in travail that seemingly,
Cannot be quenched.
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I pray and clean my house,
I pray and stand in faith,
I pray and wait for my miracle,
It is taking so long.
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“Moab is my washpot,” says God,
my thorn, of incestuous birth,
and my cleansing bowl.
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Moab is my washpot,
A chosen outsider that I love,
With all of my heart.
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I long to draw him close,
Yet he has pushed me far away.
—
I kneel before God,
Cleansing my past,
Cleansing my generations,
Cleansing the ground on which I stand,
Cleansing the future for my family to come.
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As I prepare a new path,
A new home, a new way,
The heaviness of anger and grief lift.
—
When my loved one returns,
Peace will overcome turmoil,
Love will overcome rage.
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There will be much pain to be healed,
There will be times of testing,
Times of patience,
Times of re-washing and cleansing,
Times of reconciliation.
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I bless God for the times that Moab rose up,
For we had a mere existence,
An acceptance of the way things were,
Things that were not right.
—
Without Moab, things might never have changed,
Now God can work His will,
In drawing us together,
The way we should have always been,
But couldn’t find the way.
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Thank you God, for the trial of Moab.
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Written 2-8-2001
