Psalms 44:1-16

We’ve been hearing about this, God, all our lives. Our fathers told us the stories their fathers told them, How single-handedly you weeded out the godless from the fields and planted us, How you sent those people packing but gave us a fresh start. We didn’t fight for this land; we didn’t work for it—it was a gift! You gave it, smiling as you gave it, delighting as you gave it. You’re my King, O God— command victories for Jacob! With your help we’ll wipe out our enemies, in your name we’ll stomp them to dust. I don’t trust in weapons; my sword won’t save me— But it’s you, you who saved us from the enemy; you made those who hate us lose face. All day we parade God’s praise— we thank you by name over and over. But now you’ve walked off and left us, you’ve disgraced us and won’t fight for us. You made us turn tail and run; those who hate us have cleaned us out. You delivered us as sheep to the butcher, you scattered us to the four winds. You sold your people at a discount— you made nothing on the sale. 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.