Psalms 39:1-11

I’m determined to watch steps and tongue so they won’t land me in trouble. I decided to hold my tongue as long as Wicked is in the room. “Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet. But the longer I kept silence The worse it got— my insides got hotter and hotter. My thoughts boiled over; I spilled my guts. “Tell me, what’s going on, GOD? How long do I have to live? Give me the bad news! You’ve kept me on pretty short rations; my life is a string too short to be saved. Oh! we’re all puffs of air. Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire. Oh! we’re just spit in the wind. We make our pile, and then we leave it. “What am I doing in the meantime, Lord? Hoping, that’s what I’m doing—hoping You’ll save me from a rebel life, save me from the contempt of idiots. I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth, since you, Lord, are behind all this. But I can’t take it much longer. When you put us through the fire to purge us from our sin, our dearest idols go up in smoke. Are we also nothing but smoke?