Psalms 44:13-26

You made people on the street, people we know, poke fun and call us names. You made us a joke among the godless, a cheap joke among the rabble. Every day I’m up against it, my nose rubbed in my shame— Gossip and ridicule fill the air, people out to get me crowd the street. All this came down on us, and we’ve done nothing to deserve it. We never betrayed your Covenant: our hearts were never false, our feet never left your path. Do we deserve torture in a den of jackals? or lockup in a black hole? If we had forgotten to pray to our God or made fools of ourselves with store-bought gods, Wouldn’t God have figured this out? We can’t hide things from him. No, you decided to make us martyrs, lambs assigned for sacrifice each day. Get up, GOD! Are you going to sleep all day? Wake up! Don’t you care what happens to us? Why do you bury your face in the pillow? Why pretend things are just fine with us? And here we are—flat on our faces in the dirt, held down with a boot on our necks. Get up and come to our rescue. If you love us so much, Help us!

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