Study Desk

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm Please, God , no more yelling, no more trips to the woodshed. Treat me nice for a change; I'm so starved for affection. Can't you see I'm black-and-blue, beat up badly in bones and soul? God , how long will it take for you to let up?

A David Psalm God ! God! I am running to you for dear life; the chase is wild. If they catch me, I'm finished: ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions, dragged into the forest and left unlooked for, unremembered.

Stand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it's judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I'm ready, confident in your verdict: "Innocent."

Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile. Look at that guy! He had sex with sin, he's pregnant with evil. Oh, look! He's having the baby—a Lie-Baby! See that man shoveling day after day, digging, then concealing, his man-trap down that lonely stretch of road? Go back and look again—you'll see him in it headfirst, legs waving in the breeze. That's what happens: mischief backfires; violence boomerangs. I'm thanking God, who makes things right. I'm singing the fame of heaven-high God .

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm God ! God! I am running to you for dear life; the chase is wild. If they catch me, I'm finished: ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions, dragged into the forest and left unlooked for, unremembered. God , if I've done what they say— betrayed my friends, ripped off my enemies— If my hands are really that dirty, let them get me, walk all over me, leave me flat on my face in the dirt. Stand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it's judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I'm ready, confident in your verdict: "Innocent." Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile. Look at that guy! He had sex with sin, he's pregnant with evil. Oh, look! He's having the baby—a Lie-Baby! See that man shoveling day after day, digging, then concealing, his man-trap down that lonely stretch of road? Go back and look again—you'll see him in it headfirst, legs waving in the breeze. That's what happens: mischief backfires; violence boomerangs. I'm thanking God, who makes things right. I'm singing the fame of heaven-high God .

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm God ! God! I am running to you for dear life; the chase is wild. If they catch me, I'm finished: ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions, dragged into the forest and left unlooked for, unremembered. God , if I've done what they say— betrayed my friends, ripped off my enemies— If my hands are really that dirty, let them get me, walk all over me, leave me flat on my face in the dirt. Stand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it's judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I'm ready, confident in your verdict: "Innocent." Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile.

A David Psalm I'm thanking you, God , from a full heart, I'm writing the book on your wonders. I'm whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy; I'm singing your song, High God.

God holds the high center, he sees and sets the world's mess right. He decides what is right for us earthlings, gives people their just deserts.

God 's a safe-house for the battered, a sanctuary during bad times. The moment you arrive, you relax; you're never sorry you knocked.

The wicked bought a one-way ticket to hell. No longer will the poor be nameless— no more humiliation for the humble. Up, God ! Aren't you fed up with their empty strutting? Expose these grand pretensions! Shake them up, God ! Show them how silly they look.

They care nothing for what you think; if you get in their way, they blow you off. They live (they think) a charmed life: "We can't go wrong. This is our lucky year!"

Time to get up, God —get moving. The luckless think they're Godforsaken. They wonder why the wicked scorn God and get away with it, Why the wicked are so cocksure they'll never come up for audit.

A David Psalm I've already run for dear life straight to the arms of God . So why would I run away now when you say, "Run to the mountains; the evil bows are bent, the wicked arrows Aimed to shoot under cover of darkness at every heart open to God. The bottom's dropped out of the country; good people don't have a chance"?

God's words are pure words, Pure silver words refined seven times In the fires of his word-kiln, Pure on earth as well as in heaven. God , keep us safe from their lies, From the wicked who stalk us with lies, From the wicked who collect honors For their wonderful lies.

God sticks his head out of heaven. He looks around. He's looking for someone not stupid— one man, even, God-expectant, just one God-ready woman.

Night is coming for them, and nightmares, for God takes the side of victims. Do you think you can mess with the dreams of the poor? You can't, for God makes their dreams come true.

A David Song Keep me safe, O God, I've run for dear life to you. I say to God , "Be my Lord!" Without you, nothing makes sense.

Don't just go shopping for a god. Gods are not for sale. I swear I'll never treat god-names like brand-names.

Their hearts are hard as nails, their mouths blast hot air. They are after me, nipping my heels, determined to bring me down, Lions ready to rip me apart, young lions poised to pounce. Up, God : beard them! break them! By your sword, free me from their clutches; Barehanded, God , break these mortals, these flat-earth people who can't think beyond today. I'd like to see their bellies swollen with famine food, The weeds they've sown harvested and baked into famine bread, With second helpings for their children and crusts for their babies to chew on.

A David Song, Which He Sang to God After Being Saved from All His Enemies and from Saul I love you, God — you make me strong. God is bedrock under my feet, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight. My God—the high crag where I run for dear life, hiding behind the boulders, safe in the granite hideout.