Psalms Class

It is Wednesday, halfway through a weeklong class on the Psalms. The time spent in listening to lectures, in prayer and meditation, in singing, in listening, in sharing has been tremendously fruitful. Our assignment this afternoon and evening has been to compose our own Psalm. I believe most of us are finding that a daunting task. However, in those anxious feelings are combined for me feelings of opportunity, of insight, of freedom. Opportunity to reflect the love I feel from God back to God. Insight as to the meaning of "beloved" when considering my relationship with God. Freedom in that between me and God, there ain't nothin' I can't say! So, when profound love is compounded by complete freedom, what do we end up with? Salvation, resurrection, new life. Christ. God's love personified, God with us, free to be human, free to show his divinity, free to be obedient or not. Crucified, dead, buried, and resurrected. Profound love and freedom, intermingled, are dangerous! If I am beloved of God, free to love or leave God, do I throw caution to the wind? Am I in trouble? Will I, or a part of me, have to die? What does God want from me in return for this powerful, dangerous, magnificent love?

Am I writing a Psalm? Of course. Here it is:

Psalm #?
A Psalm of Deepening Love

Oceans deep so deep
Where do these waves come from

God that is forever with me, sometimes silent
Sometimes loud and raucous . . .
Where are You? Are you with me at the beach?
Are you the beach? Are you the waves?

Frightening waves that come from so far away
Peter out and limply, wimpily lick my toes
My toes, the foundations of my grief,
Weak with relief at the silliness of the attack.

Small waves which come so fast, from so near
Crash against my knees, knocking me down
Soaking me from my foundations to my heart
With salty tears of pain and regret and longing

God, I ask why? Is it to be now and forever?
Do the waves ever stop? Can I leave the beach?
Is this my world? My workplace? My life?
When does the warmth return?

When you are ready. At least that’s what you tell me.
When you are ready. I hate those words.
You have left me impatient, created me impatient.
Why should you have done that?

When I am ready? Who decides? You?
Have I not been educated enough in pain?
Have I not been educated enough in loss?
Have I not been educated enough in regret?

When you are ready . . . Such a cowardly thing to say
To me, to me who waits so eagerly for instruction
To me who desires nothing but your presence
To me who just wants your peace.

Lessons, lessons, lessons.
Perhaps I will never be ready.
What kind of answer is that anyway?
Why is it I find you in that answer?

You God, coward, incoherent pain.
You are a mirror for me. I am a coward.
I fear incoherent pain. Yes, you are with me.
Your peace, called upon since youth, descends.

O God, O God, O God
You knew what I was calling for
You know what I am calling for
You give me what I call for.

Peace. Warmth. Safety. Always.
God who forgives my anger, my separateness
God who keeps me together and
God who breaks me into pieces.

Praise God! O Praise God!
Listening.
Ready.
Loving.

O God, O God, O God!
Holy is your name!