Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord? O God, why do you cast us off forever?

I have prayed through the Psalms monthly for almost all of my adult life, and I have practiced Benedictine lectio divina for meditating and praying with the Scriptures of the Common Lectionary for nearly as long. Through these many years, I have been impressed and often startled by how directly the Scripture that is encountering me speaks pointedly to current events: global, national, local, familial and personal. Of course, I do not think that somehow God micromanages world affairs to match the schedules of the lectioners or the sequence of the Psalms. Rather, I think Scripture is so well attuned to the human experience that it consistently points us to the hand and heart of God if we will only pay attention as the Holy Spirit illuminates it.

For something over 500 times, on the 14^th of each month, I have prayed through Psalms 14, 44, 74, 104, 134. With the tragic news of last night’s massacre in Paris still reverberating in my head and heart, Psalms 44 and 74 voiced to God my tangled emotions and reactions. I am still contemplating these Psalms that I typically pray through in a somewhat detached way, and I encourage all who are praying for the people of Paris and the other victims of violence around the world to let these Psalms inform, shape and empower your prayers.

Both Psalms cry out to God for explanation and for action. “How can you let this violent cruelty go on? How can you let your people suffer at the hands of your enemies? When are you going to do something, God? When?!” Who of us has not cried out something akin to the lines lifted from these two Psalms for the title of this column?

Of course, these Psalms were composed in the context of ancient Israel’s unique relationship with God, that neither France nor the United States (nor any modern nation for that matter) has any right to claim. While those perpetrating these atrocities are certainly a small portion of the world’s modern Muslim population (and they have been soundly condemned by a broad spectrum of Muslim leaders), the religious rationale for these attacks is inescapable. Paraphrasing from these Psalms, these attacks come from those who are the enemies of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; the God of the prophets and apostles; the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. I know that Islam traces its roots to Abraham and the Koran speaks respectfully of the prophets and Jesus. I do not take these Psalms in terms of how Christians and Muslims can or should relate to each other in our modern world. My focus is on how these Psalms shape my prayers in response to this unconscionable brutality. As I prayed through these Psalms today, I used the “enemy” lines to be honest with God and myself about my animosity and relinquish it to God.

These Psalms stretch my prayer beyond the current news, beyond the people I know most about and feel most kinship with. Yes, this was a spectacular catastrophe in a part of the world among people who presume they can live without daily fear. However, earlier this week there was a suicide bombing in Beirut killed 40 people. Thousands are fleeing rampant violence in Syria and other areas of the region. Our news gives these scant coverage because violence in so common in those areas, because we don’t understand and identify as easily with the culture and religion of people in such places. As I bring my natural impetus to pray for the people of Paris to these Psalms, the Holy Spirit expands my prayers to encompass people far beyond customary range without reducing my prayers for those who come readily to mind.

These Psalms also inform the substance and content of my prayers. I have often commented that our habitual, routine prayers often sound as though we think God is stupid and needs us to tell Him what needs attention and what do to about it. I contend that more mature prayer is about tuning into God’s perspective and power. I understand these Psalms to assure us that God does hear our prayers of desperation and is not offended by our honesty. Our complaints to God lead us to be paying attention to God and to recognize God at work in unexpected ways. This is not a simplistic solving of our problems but a much deeper release of ourselves and our concerns to God.