Yesterday I was called to pray with a young woman requesting financial assistance, and I listened to her chant her litany of health problems, describe her isolation and the pain of an abusive situation. Normally when wearing my pastoral care hat, I listen and pray back someone’s words…here is what I heard, God hear us say this together. I try to pray prayers that respect their understanding of God, but in this case I could not. She thought God had afflicted her physically and through her relationships, yet was determined to praise God in the midst of this suffering. But one day, God would bless her, and others would know that through it all she was beloved of God and had been faithful.
Today’s Psalm in Celtic Daily Prayer is Psalm 137, and this was a rare occasion when I wanted to sing the Psalm forcefully. God did you hear the Edomites saying “tear it down”, telling her that You do terrible things in order to help us grow in faith? Do you see the daughter of Babylon, the devastator who claims that you bless and curse according to our faithfulness? I wanted to dash heads of those who taught this beautiful child these horrid "truths" (but how can I get to the writer of Deuteronomy)?
Dash me against the rocks, because I can only offer a prayer for her and with her, and no more. As I listen to her story I think on two tracks—the horror of her situation, the frivolity of my response. I can give only an hour, no more, this day is spoken for and already has drained more from my family and personal time than I can afford. I have my own personal care cases, and cannot afford entanglement in another life. I offer her a prayer for God to help because I cannot or will not. I tell myself I cannot pick up every cross but only mine, but there are so many crosses lying on the floor around me.
