I’m Mad at the World

I’m mad. I want to rant. I want to blame. I want to tell the powers-that-be what they should’ve done and could now do to fix the situation.

I’m talking about abuse and coverups.

I’m talking about violence and mass shootings.

I’m talking about rights of unborn children and of women.

I’m talking about racism.

It all makes me mad. It all sends the bazillion words in my head into a frenzy to be spoken or typed. But I’m too troubled to be coherent and I have no solution to offer—so my diatribes rarely see the light of day. Not so the Psalmist.

Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
O men of blood, depart from me!
They speak against you with malicious intent;
your enemies take you name in vain.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
I hate them with complete hatred;
I count them my enemies.

Psalm 139:19-22 (ESV)

These imprecatory verses strike a jarring note for those of us who love the omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, and deeply personal God described in Psalm 139. They make me uncomfortable. I’ll admit that sometimes I just skip over them.

How does a man of God go from declaring, “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!” to “Slay the wicked! I hate them!” in less than two verses?

I picture the Psalmist sitting in his favorite coffee shop, waxing eloquent about his God, and feeling the high of being known by Him—when the latest tweet from his favorite political pundit pops up on his computer and his thoughts spiral from reverence to rage in a millisecond.

Looking in the Mirror.

I love what happens next—even though I have whiplash from the abrupt changes in direction this guy makes.

Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!

And see if there be any grievous way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting!

Psalm 139:23-24 (ESV)

He looks at God and he worships (vv. 1-17).

He looks at the world and he rants (vv. 18-22).

He looks at himself and he laments (vv. 23-24).

Confession.

I was in two very different church services on Sunday that both included a prayer of silence, contemplation, and confession in worship.

I’m hopeful this is a trend. We need it. Desperately. We need to beg the Holy Spirit to search, know, and try us. Before we point a finger, before we offer solutions, before we explain how someone else’s heart and thoughts are the problem—we need to lament over the sin. Our own sin.

In response to abuse and cover ups.

In response to mass shootings.

In response to abortion.

In response to racism.

The Psalmist’s cry is to see his sin and repent. The exhortation for the reader is to ask the Holy Spirit to search his/her heart and mind for anything that grieves God.

It’s easier to point a finger elsewhere. But looking in the mirror is much more effective.

I’ll start.

• I’m guilty of complicity in the cover-ups of abuse in the church. I kept silent about living in a marriage ravaged by sexual sin—even though my husband and I were both in leadership in the church. I witnessed and was the recipient of troubling words and actions in the church and never spoke up.
• I’m guilty of divisiveness and judgment. I’ve generalized about people who think differently than I do on abortion and gun control. I’ve labeled them and assumed I knew their hearts.
• I’m guilty of racism. For most of my life, people who were different from me were simply invisible. I didn’t seek to know them, and I certainly didn’t acknowledge their struggles. I made assumptions and even jokes based solely on the color of a person’s skin. I’ve seen and benefitted from the inequity of opportunity and treated it as my due.

I’ve confessed my complicity, my arrogance, and my lack of love to my God, and He has been gracious to forgive my sin and cleanse me. I know there are consequences I may not even recognize, but as I practice walking in the Spirit rather than the flesh, I’m learning to speak out, hear others’ hearts, and see human beings as beautiful bearers of God’s image.

I still have a long way to go.

Healing from Sin

Self-examination and confession of sin aren’t about our salvation—at least not once we’ve admitted we’re sinners in need of a Savior. Once we do that it’s done.

We don’t look to ourselves for assurance of salvation from the penalty of sin. We look to Jesus.

We don’t look to ourselves for the process of sanctification from the power of sin, either. The Holy Spirit works that in our lives.

Yet, breaking the hold sin has on our flesh requires us to look to ourselves. We must ask the Holy Spirit to search us and show us our sin. A huge part of healing from sin is confession and lament.

God won’t break the chains of sin until sin breaks our hearts.

God won’t break the chains of sin until sin breaks our hearts. He doesn’t forgive our sin and heal our relationships, our families, and our world until His people, called by His name, humble themselves, pray, seek His face, and turn from their wicked ways (1 Ch 7:14).

His people. Called by his name. That’s those of us who have been adopted as sons through the blood of Jesus Christ. Not politicians, not Hollywood, and not anyone else who doesn’t know Jesus as Savior. We are the ones who must do this work of humbling and turning.

Healing starts with each of us looking in our mirrors and asking, “What about me, God? Am I a sinner? Show me. Forgive me. Cleanse me. Heal me.”

Healing starts with lament.