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How Long?

We keep wondering why God doesn’t come.

Doesn’t do something.

Why God stands with divine hands in divine pockets.

“How long, O Lord?” we cry.


But the Potter becomes the Clay.

The Shepherd becomes the Lamb.


God with us

Is not the God we waited for.

Is not smiting

Is not wrath

Is an infant crying for his mother

Is a refugee fleeing with his parents

Until the way is clear to go back home

“How long?” we cry to God.

“How long?” God cries to us.


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