This one carries the old fire I know too well... the fury that rises when a people are pushed past the edge of what a body can hold. Anger like that is memory refusing to be erased.
What moved me most is how they hold joy inside the same fist… the way a bruised soul still says, I am here, and I am mine.... Beautiful.
There’s something holy about refusing to tidy up the rage of the oppressed. Psalm 137 isn’t trying to inspire anyone. It’s a pressure valve. A bruise that finally speaks. A people naming what was done to them because silence would finish the job Babylon started.
Folks get uncomfortable when scripture stops being “encouraging” and starts sounding like someone who watched their life collapse. But grief that deep grows fangs. Anger that real remembers every child. And pretending it’s metaphor only protects the ones who never had to live through it.
The contrast you drew between the captors’ joy and the captive’s joy is the part that hits. One joy is built on domination. The other comes from identity that can’t be confiscated. Same thing we’re watching now. Authoritarians can pass their petty laws. They can’t erase the truth of who you are.
Anger is allowed. Anger is sane. Anger keeps the soul from slipping into resignation.
And joy that survives inside that anger. That’s resistance.
Blessed be the ones who feel the fire without letting it turn them cruel.
Blessed be the ones who guard that small, indestructible joy the way others guard their power.
I love what you wrote as much as I loved the original post. You never disappoint and always illuminate and add to whatever is already there. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your heart and your insights. And I want to affirm you are beautiful and valuable, precious and loveable just the way you are.
I was first introduced to Love (God) at 16 and one of the songs the youth group sang was “By the waters of Babylon, we laid down and wept, and wept for thee Zion”. It was both beautiful and haunting. It spoke to my personal scapegoated heart and spirit and my anger and grief about the reality of my life and how it should have been but so terribly wasn’t.
In my opinion my friend, you are like a rare orchid whose beauty and fragrance is coveted, valued and considered highly valuable. I will never understand why humans can treasure the variations in nature like the myriad of unusual and rare flowers, the amazing number of different breeds of animals we cherish as our pets and yet (some, not all) humans cannot tolerate the differences in humanity. We marvel that no two snowflakes are the same but can actually hate other human beings because of things like the color of their skin or gender or sexual preferences and the list goes on and on and on. It breaks my heart every day and grief is a constant companion, anger at injustices sometimes seems like my middle name. At the same time my life is filled with so much that gives me joy. It is the great both/and of existence in our world and finding mental/emotional/spiritual balance can be very difficult.
I am sorry dear one for how you are being singled out and mistreated. I am sorry for this mean spirited insanity that is rising up again determined to punish those who are deemed “bad” just because they are “different”. I pray for your protection and for all the scapegoated people groups right now, every day. May you be surrounded every day with the TRUTH that you are beautifully and wonderfully made. May Love help us all to find our way, to be rightfully angry and yet not hate in return for the hate that seems to stalk us right now.
I bless the personal painful injustices I have endured for they have taught me how NOT to ever treat others and seeking to love my neighbor as MYSELF is the higher road I choose moment by moment. Be blessed beloved one. 🫂
This one carries the old fire I know too well... the fury that rises when a people are pushed past the edge of what a body can hold. Anger like that is memory refusing to be erased.
What moved me most is how they hold joy inside the same fist… the way a bruised soul still says, I am here, and I am mine.... Beautiful.
There’s something holy about refusing to tidy up the rage of the oppressed. Psalm 137 isn’t trying to inspire anyone. It’s a pressure valve. A bruise that finally speaks. A people naming what was done to them because silence would finish the job Babylon started.
Folks get uncomfortable when scripture stops being “encouraging” and starts sounding like someone who watched their life collapse. But grief that deep grows fangs. Anger that real remembers every child. And pretending it’s metaphor only protects the ones who never had to live through it.
The contrast you drew between the captors’ joy and the captive’s joy is the part that hits. One joy is built on domination. The other comes from identity that can’t be confiscated. Same thing we’re watching now. Authoritarians can pass their petty laws. They can’t erase the truth of who you are.
Anger is allowed. Anger is sane. Anger keeps the soul from slipping into resignation.
And joy that survives inside that anger. That’s resistance.
Blessed be the ones who feel the fire without letting it turn them cruel.
Blessed be the ones who guard that small, indestructible joy the way others guard their power.
I love what you wrote as much as I loved the original post. You never disappoint and always illuminate and add to whatever is already there. Thank you.
This is your best writing yet. ESPECIALLY on the difference in joy between captor and captive.
Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your heart and your insights. And I want to affirm you are beautiful and valuable, precious and loveable just the way you are.
I was first introduced to Love (God) at 16 and one of the songs the youth group sang was “By the waters of Babylon, we laid down and wept, and wept for thee Zion”. It was both beautiful and haunting. It spoke to my personal scapegoated heart and spirit and my anger and grief about the reality of my life and how it should have been but so terribly wasn’t.
In my opinion my friend, you are like a rare orchid whose beauty and fragrance is coveted, valued and considered highly valuable. I will never understand why humans can treasure the variations in nature like the myriad of unusual and rare flowers, the amazing number of different breeds of animals we cherish as our pets and yet (some, not all) humans cannot tolerate the differences in humanity. We marvel that no two snowflakes are the same but can actually hate other human beings because of things like the color of their skin or gender or sexual preferences and the list goes on and on and on. It breaks my heart every day and grief is a constant companion, anger at injustices sometimes seems like my middle name. At the same time my life is filled with so much that gives me joy. It is the great both/and of existence in our world and finding mental/emotional/spiritual balance can be very difficult.
I am sorry dear one for how you are being singled out and mistreated. I am sorry for this mean spirited insanity that is rising up again determined to punish those who are deemed “bad” just because they are “different”. I pray for your protection and for all the scapegoated people groups right now, every day. May you be surrounded every day with the TRUTH that you are beautifully and wonderfully made. May Love help us all to find our way, to be rightfully angry and yet not hate in return for the hate that seems to stalk us right now.
I bless the personal painful injustices I have endured for they have taught me how NOT to ever treat others and seeking to love my neighbor as MYSELF is the higher road I choose moment by moment. Be blessed beloved one. 🫂