Monday, February 27, 2012

#AlltheSingleLadies: Getting It Straight

God's business is putting things right; 
      he loves getting the lines straight, 
   Setting us straight. Once we're standing tall, 
      we can look him straight in the eye.

Psalm 11:7 (MSG)

Monday, February 20, 2012

#AlltheSingleLadies: Defeat of the Enemies

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. 

The day my enemies turned tail and ran, 
      they stumbled on you and fell on their faces. 
   You took over and set everything right; 
      when I needed you, you were there, taking charge. 

You blow the whistle on godless nations; 
      you throw dirty players out of the game, 
      wipe their names right off the roster. 
   Enemies disappear from the sidelines, 
      their reputation trashed, 
      their names erased from the halls of fame. 

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. 

Psalm 9:1-8 (MSG)

Monday, February 13, 2012

#AlltheSingleLadies: Can't Get By

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.

Psalm 7:11-17 (MSG)

Monday, February 6, 2012

#AlltheSingleLadies: Affection Starvation

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? 

Break in, God, and break up this fight; 
      if you love me at all, get me out of here. 
   I'm no good to you dead, am I? 
      I can't sing in your choir if I'm buried in some tomb! 

I'm tired of all this—so tired. My bed 
      has been floating forty days and nights 
   On the flood of my tears. 
      My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears. 
   The sockets of my eyes are black holes; 
      nearly blind, I squint and grope. 

Get out of here, you Devil's crew: 
      at last God has heard my sobs. 
   My requests have all been granted, 
      my prayers are answered. 

Cowards, my enemies disappear. 
   Disgraced, they turn tail and run.

Psalm 6 (MSG)