"Do not hold against us the sins of past generations; may your mercy come quickly to meet us, for we are in desperate need." Psalm 79:8
My Father's heart beat deep inside my chest. His mercy overflowed and caught me by surprise. For once, I understood his compassion towards us.
Condemning lies shouted in my ears before my feet padded across the bedroom floor, Saturday morning. Words that had no merit or permission to attend my soul crept into subconscious cracks and tripped me in early consciousness. "Lord come," is all I could muster through the accusations to shake loose the grip of my prowling Enemy.
Later, in the midst of fellow wordsmiths the Enemy pulled up a chair next to mine, disguised as a colleague. He took control of a jeering minority and publicly mocked of the work of the Master...His saving power...His name. "Lord come," I prayed again. But it didn't seem enough. I was ready for a fight, to defend His name but then He spoke:
"When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly."
1 Peter 2:23
Sunday came. The sabbath. My husband and I traveled in the sunshine to quieter places to worship and bask in His company, stopping only for breakfast. In a sleepy river town we took our seats under the canopy at the Whistle Stop Cafe and enjoyed our gourmet eggs and coffee and yes, fried green tomatoes.
To our right, two couples discussing the just-heard sermon on following the passions God placed in our hearts. I know that sermon. It's where God has me today.
To our left a group of three, friends of the owner, commiserating about the disciplinary injustices of parochial school nuns and southern baptist schoolmasters. Their faith now dead because of them.
Caught in the middle of two polar opposites my heart quickened and tears welled up - my husband bewildered by my visible reaction. I choked back tears, not for myself, but for all those who've never known God's compassion, or love, or mercy - only the Enemy's distorted truth. I felt God's heartbreak, His mercy, His compassion and caught a glimpse of how He saw these people.
I begged God for words again. What syllables could I offer to change their minds? Was there any convincing I could offer to help them see the true God? Only silent prayers were offered to an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent God.
In times like these how do you react? What advice can you offer to one so muted?
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