Rage.  Rage at the machine, the Government, My Sister, the neighbors, the roads, the sky, the sun and moon.  Overwhelming, inexhaustible, screaming revealed passion, broiling over from this vessel, agonizing over everything in entropy.  Father, this sin is our fault, thank you for waiting us out to accept the only available cure.

Lord God, I am at loss as to what to do with this turmoil in my heart and head.  Thank you for your peace that surpasses this global evil having apparently supplanted justice.  If it weren’t for Your teaching Father we would have no frame of reference for Truth.  I guess we would just accept this polluted era as norm.  Thanks be to God that You have provided an alternative to the obvious outcome that confronts humanity.  In fact it is so corrupted that those who would be emperor cannot even admit our approaching demise and keep buying trinkets as if this ship will be righted, rearranging the deck chairs for the party following calamity.

Father, I have Christian Brothers who cannot stop looking upon the naked images of women on the internet, hoping somehow that this will solve the relationship problems with their wives.  There are Pastor’s who have convinced themselves that everything will be fine if the flock just gives X + Y dollars, X being the tremendous amount dedicated to fixed Church Costs and Y what will be used for presently inadequate discipleship programs.  My Family hates me because I refuse to tell them what they wish to hear about our moral decay and unwillingness to surrender to Christ Jesus, as they return to the their bottle, girlfriend or video game.  I have friends who practice the same old experiment, knowing confidently that this time it will somehow deliver a positive outcome.  I continue to rage, although I have gotten better at internalizing it, the same old brawling spirit shows its contorted visage when I fail to get my way.  Death craves the living, pestilence seeks escape from captivity and war rears its endless, consuming maw, threatening the sum of history.  What am I to do with this roiling gut full of acid when the nightmares are real?

Father, how long will Your Name go mocked by the lips of the wicked and disobedient?  How long will the souls of martyrs remain by Your side crying out for revenge?  How long will these propped up, false kings be allowed to represent Your Authority?  What must we do to call the willing to penitence?  How shall we honor You when we are dedicating to our own glory twenty four by seven?  What is to shake us from this stupor as we stand paralyzed on the walls watching enemy advances?  Father, take me if she would but be spared this agony of daily despair.  Show her joy, let her know love exists, so that hope may follow.  I am powerless, yet I serve a God who holds the foundations of the world in his palm.  Hear my prayer Father, hear my prayer, won’t You please.  In Jesus’ Name.