Hope Deferred Makes My Heart Sick
I have been waiting for God’s intervention in a demonstrative way for so many years I cannot recall the exact number. Maybe since I was born.
I feel physically ill sometimes waiting and longing in hope for the vile ways of evil people to be exposed, for them to reap even a little bit; something I can calculate and see with my own eyes. Like — a prison sentence!
An example, the man who helped my father murder a woman and rape innocent children, he still gets to sit in his house everyday with the very same freedom he’s always had. The same freedom I have, the same freedom you have.
I am sometimes angry with God that He doesn’t do more to these wretched people.
They take chastity and virgin innocence from lives that are just beginning and they pay nothing. They get to walk around and eat ice cream cones, sing the same songs I sing and plan for vacation?
Sometimes, I am just sick and fucking tired that they get to continue living in the here and now.
Do they deserve it?
While I watch and help victims survive, I am abhorred at the rules that are put upon them. Rules like — don’t live in unforgiveness, but forgive! Don’t be unkind to your abuser, but love them in a way that would look right. Look right to who?
And, this one makes me laugh: Don’t use inappropriate words that are unbecoming — like fuck and asshole.
Where do these judgments come from against people who are trying to save their very existence from atrocities like rape, murder — human trafficking!
Yet, the abusers get to walk around unnoticed and undisturbed. Our very healing is often predicated on leaving those assholes alone.
It makes me angry and it’s not right nor is it Godly.
When Jesus was here walking the earth, He got upset. He walked into a church and drove out the evildoers, then — he turned over their money tables and the benches! That’s not a peaceful act, is it? He used descriptive words like “you brood of vipers” when He was talking to the religious zealots of His time.
While I am waiting for the justice of God to prevail, sometimes my heart is lonely. Sometimes my heart questions God’s goodness. Sometimes, I wanted to take shots of whiskey so I can just forget — and I don’t like whiskey!
So, yes, my heart aches waiting in hope for things to change, for a day that judgment can and will be served.
Until then, I will use my voice to speak words that encourage my fellow laborers in way that they will understand. I’m not talking to the arrogant pretender. I am talking to those that have a kindred spirit and can relate to my suffering and to my joy.
We will continue to stand.
Originally published at http://prisonerbynocrimeofmyown.com on October 23, 2020.