|Palm Sunday, April 5||
Psalm 31:9-18 (The Message Bible)
I hate all this silly religion, but you, God, I trust.
leaping and singing in the circle of your love;
you saw my pain, you disarmed my tormentors,
You didnít leave me in their clutches but gave me room to breathe.
Be kind to me, Godó Iím in deep, deep trouble again.
Iíve cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside.
My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs.
My troubles have worn me out, turned my bones to powder.
To my enemies Iím a monster; Iím ridiculed by the neighbors.
My friends are horrified; they cross the street to avoid me.
want to blot me from memory,
forget me like a corpse in a grave, discard me like a broken dish in the trash.
The street-talk gossip has me ďcriminally insaneĒ!
Behind locked doors they plot how to ruin me for good.
Desperate, I throw myself on you: you are my God!
Hour by hour I place my days in your hand, safe from the hands out to get me.
Warm me, your servant, with a smile; save me because you love me.
Donít embarrass me by not showing up; Iíve given you plenty of notice.
Embarrass the wicked, stand them up,
leave them stupidly shaking their heads as they drift down to hell.
Gag those loudmouthed liars who heckle me, your follower, with jeers and catcalls.
Copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson
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