My Psalm 143

O LORD, hear me out.
Please be patient
while I think out loud
in your presence.
Please don't take my thoughts
too seriously,
but help me
as I process some things.

I just don't understand some people, Lord.
I don't.
They mystify me.
I don't understand those
who can stand so stubbornly convinced
of their own righteousness
while their actions and attitudes
are blatantly contrary to your Word,
to your clear commands.
I don't get those
who go their own way
and stray from your paths
and wonder why they don't enjoy your blessing.
I can't fathom
how people who call themselves by your name
can be so demanding
and resentful
and critical
and ugly toward others.

It dismays me.
I get tired of it.
I long for those days when my fervor was fresh,
my heart unjaded.

I spread out my hands to you;
my soul thirsts for refreshment from you.

Hear my cry, Lord,
and renew my spirit.
Come, Holy Spirit.
Rain on me.
Flow through my soul,
redeem its desert places.
Wash away all weariness
and dullness
and cynicism.

Wake me with a morning kiss,
and let tomorrow dawn
with fresh hope
and energy.
Walk with me.
Rescue me from my enemies,
and myself,
for I hide myself in you.

Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God;
lead me on level ground,
sweet Holy Spirit.

Preserve my life;
lift me up,
plant my feet on higher ground.

Silence all doubt,
destroy all my foes,
for I am your servant.

Amen.

(The art above, from Psalm 143:10, was found in a corner of a main room in Elm Tree House in the village of Blisworth, Northamptonshire, England. The style has been dated c. 1650)