Lord! Have you locked your mercies in a cage?

Did you wrap your compassion with forgetfulness?

Has your rejection of your people become like a volcanic mountain?

Has your mercy become as small as a speck of sand?

Is there not one single umbrella of mercy 

    that provides shelter at the noon of your rage?

 

Just a moment of your rejection is like an eternity of pain.

The streets of hell become my path in your anger.

Will you reject your people forever?

Has the date of your mercy expired?

 

I am a Canaanite woman who has a daughter possessed by demons (Mk 7:26).

I seek your mercy.

I am blind Bartimaeus begging for your compassion (Mk 10:47).

You showed mercy to your servant Lot (Gen 19:16)

    and to Epaphroditus when you healed him (Phil 2:27).

We too are your people!

Nurse us with your compassion and embrace us.

Don’t call us Lo-Ruhamah (Hos 1:6);

     instead, fill our lives with divine mercy.

 

I shall recall your works and wonders,

    and I shall remember you.

Will you forget us while we remember you?

We contemplate your works and hunger for your mercy.

Your compassion is better than life.

 

O Lord, Pharoah is wandering in your land!

The devil holds the neck of your daughters.

Loudspeakers are everywhere, rejecting your religion.

The body of Christ is blistered with divisions,

    and your people are busy amputating your body.

Where are the winds of heaven and the thunder of your voice?

Where is the arm of God?

Where are your wonders, acts of power, and fountains of mercy?

 

I cannot be convinced that you have forgotten your mercies,

    and so I wait for you.

Have mercy on me and my country.

Have mercy on us and guide your people.

Bring millions of believers to your church.

O Lord – Kyrie eleison. 

    Have mercy, O Lord!

 

Yohanna Katanacho, 1967 – , Palestinian Israeli evangelical theologian

 

____________________________

 

 

I cried out to God for help;
    I cried out to God to hear me.
When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
    at night I stretched out untiring hands,
    and I would not be comforted.

I remembered you, God, and I groaned;
    I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.
You kept my eyes from closing;
    I was too troubled to speak.
I thought about the former days,
    the years of long ago;
I remembered my songs in the night.
    My heart meditated and my spirit asked:

“Will the Lord reject forever?
    Will he never show his favor again?
Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
    Has his promise failed for all time?
Has God forgotten to be merciful?
    Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”

Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
    the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
    yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
I will consider all your works
    and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”