Psalm 22

My God, my God
why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from the words of my groaning?

My God, I cry out by day, 
but you do not answer,
by night but I find no rest.

In you our ancestors put our trust,
they trusted you and were saved,
in you they trusted and were not disappointed.

But I am a worm and not a human being,
I am scorned by everyone,
despised by the people.

All who see me mock me,
they hurl insults, shaking their heads,
"He trusts in the Lord," they say.

"Let the Lord rescue him, 
let him deliver him since he delights in him."

Yet you brought me out of the womb,
you made me feel secure on my mother's breast.
From birth I was cast on you, from my mother's womb,
you have been my God. 

Do not be far from me,
and trouble is near and there is 
no one to help.

I am poured out like water 
and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart has turned to wax, 
it has melted within me,
a pack of villains encircles me,

they pierce my hands and my feet.
All my bones are on display;

people stare and gloat over me.
They divide my clothes among them
and cast lots for my garment. 

But you, Lord,
do not be far from me.
You are my strength;
come quickly to help.

Deliver me from the sword,
my precious life from the
power of the dogs.

Rescue me
from the mouth of lions;
save me from the horns
of the wild oxen.

I will declare your name to my people;
in the assembly I will praise you. 

Polly & Georgia Lee

In the early 1990s, when our boys were in grade school and we were living south of San Francisco, a 12-year-old girl named Polly went missing from her home an hour or so north of the city, in a little town called Petaluma. Because Petaluma was also Winona Ryder’s hometown, she helped galvanize the search effort for Polly which garnered nation-wide attention. Polly’s face was seen by millions, including Robert and I, who were caught up in her story—and who mourned her death weeks later.

About 4 years passed and again on the outskirts of Petaluma another 12-year-old girl went missing. This time, however, no one noticed. Like Polly, Georgia Lee was beautiful, intelligent, and loved by her friends. But that's where the similarities ended. Unlike Polly, Georgia was poor. And Black. And without a father. She was a surrogate parent both to her little sister and her unstable mother – that is, until a male predator moved into the house, and Georgia began leaving it out of self-preservation.

On the day she didn’t come home at all, no one reported her missing.

Two weeks later, a neighbor saw a little blurb in the paper; an unidentified body had been found along the highway. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Georgia for a while, so the neighbor shared her fears with the police. Tragically, her fears were soon realized.

At Georgia Lee’s memorial service, Tom Waits and his wife sat in the back row. They were struck by the equal horror and sorrow—and the profoundly unequal attention and concern—that surrounded the lives and deaths and grief of these two young girls. So, they wrote the lament we just heard on Georgia’s behalf, crying out to God, and to us, from hearts tuned toward justice; justice, which, in Hebrew, is the word most often paralleled, even synonymous, with shalom, or peace.

[see lyrics here]

Advent & Lament

During advent, peace is one of the four pillars – and candles – set ablaze in the light of Jesus. Here, in this shelter, we are also given safe space to lament, to cry out to, and with God, for ourselves and our wounded world. Because the feet of those who stand and shout God’s good news of peace are only lovely when they also stand against injustice; with the God who has come to us in the flesh, embodying our lament and our final peace in his own life.