Comfort my people? With what? (I know I’m your kid God but, jimmeny-crickets! Have you seen what’s goin’ on down here?)
How is comfort supposed to flow from such a dry and barren place?
Besides… they are Your people God. You comfort them!
(I don’t even like most of them.)
(Oh no, You’re right.)
I don’t like me, either.
I’ve become like them… mean, bad, and nasty.
Disillusioned and hard, and yes, dry.
This vineyard has destroyed whatever I once had.
I had such high hopes once.
“Rivers of living water flowing OUT of me…”
That’s what I thought… hoped. Not this.
Habakkuk’s Vineyard and living water… now THERE’S an oxymoron!
(I guess I just don’t get it.)
Oh, I know what “the crowd” will say…
What the crowd always says, “We told you so!”
(The mean-bad-n-nasty, you mean.)
Well let’s see… (Huh? Whadda ya say?)
…I don’t GET it?
(Yeah God, I just said that.)
(You love them?)
The mean-bad-n-nasty crowd…
You love them?
(I TOLD You I don’t get it.)
How can You love them? Me …them!
I can’t stand to be in the same room with… them.
(You know that?)
(How does one comfort The Enemy?)
I’m sorry God. All I have left are questions…
Mean, bad, and nasty questions.
I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do what You ask.
(It’s not in me anymore.)
The DREAM-MAKER’S Promise:
The Caterpillar’s Prayer:
I know I’m supposed to forgive my enemies God. (I know.) But I don’t even know where to begin… there’s so much stuff!
So many wounds. (They wanted to destroy me God!) They tried. Oh, how they have tried! Over, and over, and over again, and they almost succeeded God… so many times. (You know. – You saw.)
How do you forgive someone who is dedicated to the task of destroying you?
You know sometimes I feel just like a little kid again. Dad is standing over me telling me to, “Eat my yellow squash.” (I hate yellow squash!) I know it’s good for me… but that doesn’t mean I want to do it! (Yeah… just like forgiveness.)
Jesus help me. I can’t do this on my own. (They hate me so much… they wanted me dead!) It’s there in their eyes… in their deeds. Pure hatred.
So much, I can’t even bear to look at them anymore.
Where do I start Jesus? Where? The cross?
(We always come back to that, don’t we?)