A Rebel's Psalm

Now I know the pain of separation.

Today I have had a glimpse of the pain that you, O Lord, must feel when your children separate themselves from you; when their sins become a prison wall, surrounding them on all sides.

Rebellion leads to sorrow.

There is no pleasure so exciting that is worth the price of the pain that now plagues me: the leaden, numbing sense of utter powerlessness that clings to the root of my soul.

I have placed the last brick on the wall. I am utterly alone in the hell of my own making.

Is this not enough? Have I not now paid in full the cost of my wrong-doings? May I not now please go home to my family? How much longer, O Lord, must I go on like this?

I thought that life was a game and that I could make up the rules as I went along. Now I cannot move and feel like I’m suffocating!

You have brought me here, O Lord. I thought I could play Touch-n-go with you, but you never let go. (Do you?) I thought I could visit you from time to time in the high places (when it was convenient for me), but all the while you were patiently waiting for me in the low, dark places.

What are you doing down here, Lord?! I deserve to be here but you shouldn’t be here!

You lift my chin. You wash my face.

Of all people, Lord, why would you waste your time on me?

Nonetheless, thank you for meeting me here, and I’m sorry for getting you dirty. I am at home when I am with you.

© 2002 Jon Andreas. All rights reserved. Written Christmas Day 2002