See the writer essentially says "See those guys? Those guys are mean to me. I'm a good person but they are mean. Treat them bad God. Let bad things happen to them but let good things happen to me." (text copied below). Not really the prayer that Western Christianity teaches you to pray.
But how many of us feel this? How many of us really do feel persecuted, put upon, actively hated and mistreated. And not in the "Oh poor American Christians we have it so hard" but in the real day to day struggles: living in disadvantaged areas, being bullied for real at school, abusive homes, harassing bosses or co-workers?
A lot of us have real true enemies.
I know the name of mine. If Joe and I had decided to have kids, the names Megan, Mindy, Debbie & Jill were off the menu. In my childhood I may have prayed a prayer very similar to this psalm. Hurt em God. They hurt me so you go get em!!! Before I knew better. Before I knew how Christians were supposed to pray. Ya know - nice and loving and sanitized.
Yes, this Psalm is a reminder that our prayers are meant to be raw and real and feelings of hurt and hate are ok to pour out to God. Trust God to act in the right, holy ways and share your heart.
Sure that's a great moral to take away.
But here's the painful part. The reality is that there are a few people for whom my face is the face of their enemy. There's someone right now who struggles to forgive me and numbers ME among their enemies. No matter how good you are, unintentionally or not there are people you have wounded deeply. People I have wounded deeply.
In fact, someone has probably prayed that very prayer about me. And those people that I've hurt and wounded? It usually happens because I'm hurt and wounded and can't admit it to myself or just want to see others hurt like I do. If I could have prayed honestly like that, let all the hurt and bile pour out before God, perhaps I could avoid hurting others.
Dear Lord, today let me be honest before you in my prayers. Help me truly and honestly share pain, anger and bitterness with you. Help me trust you with the outcome so that I can be honest with what my heart wants and needs. As I pour out anger and hurt to you, fill me with your love and grace.
Lord, have mercy
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109 1-5 My God, don’t turn a deaf ear to my hallelujah prayer.
Liars are pouring out invective on me;
Their lying tongues are like a pack of dogs out to get me,
barking their hate, nipping my heels—and for no reason!
I loved them and now they slander me—yes, me!—
and treat my prayer like a crime;
They return my good with evil,
they return my love with hate.
Liars are pouring out invective on me;
Their lying tongues are like a pack of dogs out to get me,
barking their hate, nipping my heels—and for no reason!
I loved them and now they slander me—yes, me!—
and treat my prayer like a crime;
They return my good with evil,
they return my love with hate.
6-20 Send the Evil One to accuse my accusing judge;
dispatch Satan to prosecute him.
When he’s judged, let the verdict be “Guilty,”
and when he prays, let his prayer turn to sin.
Give him a short life,
and give his job to somebody else.
Make orphans of his children,
dress his wife in widow’s weeds;
Turn his children into begging street urchins,
evicted from their homes—homeless.
May the bank foreclose and wipe him out,
and strangers, like vultures, pick him clean.
May there be no one around to help him out,
no one willing to give his orphans a break.
Chop down his family tree
so that nobody even remembers his name.
But erect a memorial to the sin of his father,
and make sure his mother’s name is there, too—
Their sins recorded forever before God,
but they themselves sunk in oblivion.
That’s all he deserves since he was never once kind,
hounded the afflicted and heartbroken to their graves.
Since he loved cursing so much,
let curses rain down;
Since he had no taste for blessing,
let blessings flee far from him.
He dressed up in curses like a fine suit of clothes;
he drank curses, took his baths in curses.
So give him a gift—a costume of curses;
he can wear curses every day of the week!
That’s what they’ll get, those out to get me—
an avalanche of just deserts from God.
dispatch Satan to prosecute him.
When he’s judged, let the verdict be “Guilty,”
and when he prays, let his prayer turn to sin.
Give him a short life,
and give his job to somebody else.
Make orphans of his children,
dress his wife in widow’s weeds;
Turn his children into begging street urchins,
evicted from their homes—homeless.
May the bank foreclose and wipe him out,
and strangers, like vultures, pick him clean.
May there be no one around to help him out,
no one willing to give his orphans a break.
Chop down his family tree
so that nobody even remembers his name.
But erect a memorial to the sin of his father,
and make sure his mother’s name is there, too—
Their sins recorded forever before God,
but they themselves sunk in oblivion.
That’s all he deserves since he was never once kind,
hounded the afflicted and heartbroken to their graves.
Since he loved cursing so much,
let curses rain down;
Since he had no taste for blessing,
let blessings flee far from him.
He dressed up in curses like a fine suit of clothes;
he drank curses, took his baths in curses.
So give him a gift—a costume of curses;
he can wear curses every day of the week!
That’s what they’ll get, those out to get me—
an avalanche of just deserts from God.
21-25 Oh, God, my Lord, step in;
work a miracle for me—you can do it!
Get me out of here—your love is so great!—
I’m at the end of my rope, my life in ruins.
I’m fading away to nothing, passing away,
my youth gone, old before my time.
I’m weak from hunger and can hardly stand up,
my body a rack of skin and bones.
I’m a joke in poor taste to those who see me;
they take one look and shake their heads.
work a miracle for me—you can do it!
Get me out of here—your love is so great!—
I’m at the end of my rope, my life in ruins.
I’m fading away to nothing, passing away,
my youth gone, old before my time.
I’m weak from hunger and can hardly stand up,
my body a rack of skin and bones.
I’m a joke in poor taste to those who see me;
they take one look and shake their heads.
26-29 Help me, oh help me, God, my God,
save me through your wonderful love;
Then they’ll know that your hand is in this,
that you, God, have been at work.
Let them curse all they want;
you do the blessing.
Let them be jeered by the crowd when they stand up,
followed by cheers for me, your servant.
Dress my accusers in clothes dirty with shame,
discarded and humiliating old ragbag clothes.
save me through your wonderful love;
Then they’ll know that your hand is in this,
that you, God, have been at work.
Let them curse all they want;
you do the blessing.
Let them be jeered by the crowd when they stand up,
followed by cheers for me, your servant.
Dress my accusers in clothes dirty with shame,
discarded and humiliating old ragbag clothes.
30-31 My mouth’s full of great praise for God,
I’m singing his hallelujahs surrounded by crowds,
For he’s always at hand to take the side of the needy,
to rescue a life from the unjust judge.
I’m singing his hallelujahs surrounded by crowds,
For he’s always at hand to take the side of the needy,
to rescue a life from the unjust judge.
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