Considering Psalm 142

I complain.

I moan, groan and embrace my pride with words of discontent as I forget the blessings and honor heaped upon me.  I do this to foreshadow my true prayer, in hopes that it might persuade an all-knowing and all-powerful God to look up with pity, favoring that human emotion I know so well instead of simply letting Him love me.

Only after I show how weak, troubled, broken, defeated and depressingly human I am do I tell him my true troubles.  And yet... He loves me.

Whe I feel lost and ruined you lift up my chin, and you set my eyes to truth.

And even in that truth, I find despair!  Oh!  The cruelty!  People are against me!  People want to harm me!  All around is lies and pain!  I see no safety.

Until I cry to You.


Listen, please.  Let me be foolish and in pain.  And then, please, set me free so I can love your truth. Then, then I can bless You and be blessed.