What I didn't post

I'm behind on blogging. I had intended to write something every day. And really I have. But I wrote a piece about Hippos, hippo infanticide and serial killers after overdosing on the Discovery Channel. It was too dark to be juxtaposed against pictures of my kids. I found myself reading "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards--and taking comfort.

It was that bad.

I tried to find a lighter side, but succeeded only in making it longer, I finally ditched the essay entirely.

I thought about starting another blog where I can post these types of writings. But that sounded a bit like I'd be constructing a sort of Picture of Dorian Gray Blog--that idea gives me the willies. So my compromise is this: I'm not posting about hippos and serial killers, but I've told you that I wrote about it.

The Psalmists, or whoever complied the Psalms, didn't have a problem with those juxtapositions. Psalm 75 says, "We give thanks to you, O God, we give thanks, for your Name is near;/men tell of your wonderful deeds" Psalm 76 echoes teh same emotions as 75, "You are resplendent with light, more majestic than mountains rich with game." (My brother would appreciate that comparison.) But Psalm 77 laments,

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 hand
and my soul refused to be comforted.

I remembered you, O God, and I groaned; I mused, and my spirit grew faint . . .

It does get better. Eventually the writer says, "To this I will appeal; the years of the right hand of the Most High." Then he goes on to recount all the times God bailed out Israel even though they really didn't deserve it.

Speaking of laments, Elise is awake. Not to belittle the problems of Asaph (the psalmist of 76), but Elise seems to be striking a similar note.