For he has rescued the life of the poor
from the power of the wicked! ~ Jeremiah 20:13
Lord, rescue the poor from the wicked. I say this prayer today for children everywhere. The little ones Jesus loves so much. Those who have no real voices, who look to us adults to keep them safe from harm. I say this prayer today for the young who are taken advantage of, abused and maimed in every way, by the very ones entrusted with the care and protection of them.
I’m saying this prayer to battle the rising anger in my heart. I’m saying this because I feel helpless. But I don’t want to feel helpless. That would mean I was conceding defeat and opening the gates and letting in the very people I should protect children from.
No, I want to spirit away these little ones and flee to the mountains where they are safer. But too many are against me; they stand at the ready to thwart every rescue attempt.
Their numbers shake me; their vengeance and darkening hardness of heart, even more. These shepherds charged with the care of the young sheep are unmasking themselves.
They are no shepherds. They never were. They have always been wolves. Lord, rescue the poor from the wicked.
I pray the prayer over and over, willing myself to believe in the hope Jeremiah has brought this morning. Yet, nothing changes within me; doubt still laps at the shores of my heart.
I tell my God, Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.
Still in a knot that refuses to go away, I go to my window, to look at the waking skies and to leave my prayer in His hands. Rose-tipped clouds ribbon out from the sun’s old bed of slumber. Dully, I rest my eyes on the rousing vista. My heart remains troubled.
And then I see it.
A wide swathe of the most still of blues, in the skies west to the birth of day. No one looking at it would see anything out of the ordinary in it. And yet, it was a blue that fell straight into my wavering spirit.
The instant the blue touched my spirit, I crossed the break.
Gone was the fear. Gone was the anger. Gone was the doubt.
The blue felt like a light to my soul. It was a blue that was still, deep, quiet.
It was a blue that held in its expanse a strength beyond compare.
In that searing joy, I knew that the prayers prayed for children by every one of us have been received.
I know because I know that blue.
writingonmyheart 