How long until justice rolls down like mighty waters?

How long until you break the teeth of the wicked?

How long until you bring a sword of justice down on the oppressor?

How much more blood will flow from the veins of the martyrs until you answer their cries for recompense?

Wait a little longer, you say.

But how long will be long enough?

How long until you comfort the mourning and lift up the downcast?

How long until you wipe away all tears?

How long until the table is set and the children are gathered in — no longer broken.

How long?

How long is the language of lament.

How long is the vocabulary of longing — the sigh of the tired soul clinging on to the hope of tomorrow.

How long is the natural tongue of a heart attuned to the cries of the hurting.

How long is the cry of a heart primed for action: a soul ready to give, serve, protest, pray and participate in the kingdom come.

How long is an utterance of faith when life hurts like hell.

Faith that God will hear.

Faith that God will comfort.

Faith that God will right all wrongs.

Faith that God will make wars cease from the ends of the earth.

Faith that God will, one day, wipe away all tears.

That day is coming.

But how long, O Lord?

A Prayer of Lament

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