Yet Your Footprints Were Unseen

AM Psalm 80 • PM Psalm 77 [79]
Lev. 25: 35-55 • Col. 1:9-14 • Matt. 13:1-16

Psalm 77’s author speaks of anguish, of perceived abandonment. Unable to find comfort anywhere, they wail in pain, searching for God, denied even a brief respite in sleep.

I cry aloud to God,
aloud to God, that he may hear me.

In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.

I think of God, and I moan;
I meditate, and my spirit faints. Selah

You keep my eyelids from closing;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

This pain is not from a few bad days or weeks. Born from long months or years, this agony has surfaced as doubt, perhaps angry frustration. Where are you, God? Has your love ceased? your promises ended? Have you forgotten to be gracious and compassionate? Have you felt this kind of pain, yelled these questions to God, demanding answers, grown angry and impatient? I have. And each time, as both child and adult, I was drawn outdoors to see the wonder of the rivers, the trees, the skies, the thunder, the wind. In these—God’s wonders—just as the psalmist, my heart remembered faith.

Your way was through the sea,
your path, through the mighty waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.

Now older, I am more willing (and more able) to be still, to wait for God. And in this, our pandemic spring, I believe God is with us and though unseen, walks besides us on our path.

Written by Bernadette Reda

Envious of the town howling, I have been trying here in the Goshen woods but it’s not catching on aside from the usual coyotes. Along with local squirrels, Leon and Nutsy, who mock me daily, we are enjoying the slowed pace. I miss you but am keeping my St. Paul’s family close!