(An Asaph psalm.)
Oh God.
Pagans invaded your inheritance.
They defiled your temple.
They pounded Jerusalem into splinters and stones.
They killed your servants,
Their corpses left as vulture food.
The bodies of your own people feed rats
And cats and carrion.
They soaked the lawns of Jerusalem
With blood.
Is there anyone left to bury the dead?
Neighboring nations shake their heads,
Joking about how far we’ve fallen,
Loving every minute of it.
How long, Yahweh?
Will you never look at us again?
Is there no bottom to your fury?
It’s those pagan people you should be mad at.
They think you’re a silly fairy tale.
Those foreigners treat you as a foreign idea.
They don’t think you’ll do anything
About how they’ve wrecked Jacob’s home.
Yes, we sinned in the past.
But that’s old news.
Don’t hold those transgressions against us.
What we need now is your mercy.
Be quick about it
Because we’re in deep.
Oh God.
You’re our Savior.
Your reputation is tied to ours.
So, forgive us.
Deliver us.
Do it for your own reputation.
Why should those pagans say,
“Where is their so-called God,
That invisible nothingness?”
Do something visible,
Tangible.
Let us see it.
Let them see it, too.
Make them pay for the blood they spilled
Of your servants.
We’re held hostage here.
So, hear our groans.
The noose is around our neck.
Free us in the nick of time.
Repay them with interest
For treating you like a harmless myth.
When this happens,
We your people,
The sheep in your pasture,
Will be so filled to the full with praise
I can’t imagine every stopping.
Generation after generation
Will get in on it
Freshly
Day after day.