How Long, O Lord?
A modern psalm of lament and justice
Public Theology is based on the work of Zach W. Lambert, Pastor of Restore, an inclusive church in Austin, Texas. He and his wife, Amy Lambert, contribute to and moderate this account. Zach’s first book, Better Ways to Read the Bible, will release on August 12, 2025 and is available to preorder today.
Better Ways to Read the Bible is currently on sale through Baker, or you can receive a signed copy when ordering through Book People. (For signed copies: include the name of the person to whom you would like the book signed in the comments field during checkout at bookpeople.com; not yet available to those in the EU, so sorry!).
Every preorder qualifies for an instant download art print as well as a free copy of the audiobook upon release. Please complete this form to receive your preorder bonuses!
All of the content available at Public Theology is for those who identify as Christian, as well as those who might be interested in learning about a more inclusive, kind, thoughtful Christianity. We’re glad you’re here.
In my first semester of doctoral classes at Duke University, my Old Testament professor, Dr. Ellen Davis, challenged us to write a poem in the style of the Psalms. I balked at first. I’m much more comfortable writing a longform theological essay than even a single stanza of poetry, but I found the exercise to be transformative and I’ve been putting it into practice periodically ever since.
This is my attempt at a modern Psalm of lament for the world we find ourselves in today, specifically naming injustices and imploring God to do something about them. I’m still convinced that God is at work in this broken world and that we are called to join God in that work. I hope this helps you take a step toward that calling.
How Long, O Lord?
How long, O Lord?
How long must we trudge through this darkness?
Dreams dissolved at borders, families torn apart,
a sanctuary promise broken on the altar of fear.
Where are you, Lord?
Your absence echoes through shattered communities,
the vulnerable left defenseless,
the innocent trampled for power.
Democracy gasps for breath in voting lines,
hard won rights deliberately dismantled.
They draw maps to muzzle and pass laws to exclude,
silencing the voices of those who most need to be heard.
Safe spaces are breached, sacred ground defiled,
as ICE storms through schools and churches.
Children cower where they once found comfort,
their prayers interrupted by clinking cuffs.
The flames of hatred burn hotter each day:
deporting our siblings without cause or mercy
and piling their bodies in prisons
while lawmakers applaud the violence.
Young queer hearts break in classroom corners,
their wounds invisible to those who should protect,
bullies emboldened by pulpits and politics
as if cruelty were a sacrament worth celebrating.
Poverty spreads like wildfire:
grocery carts emptier, rent notices redder,
the poor stretched thinner than dawn’s early light,
their children's health sacrificed for profit.
Most bitter of all: your name weaponized,
the cross transformed into a battering ram,
Christ's compassion buried beneath nationalism,
your table of welcome replaced by walls.
Yet still, like stars waiting behind storm clouds,
hope persists in the rubble of despair
for you are the architect of justice,
the blueprint of a world turned right-side up.
Why do you sleep, Lord?
Wake up and make things right!
Shatter the systems that crush your children,
hold accountable those who deal in suffering.
Make us uncomfortable enough to act,
bold enough to stand when others sit,
courageous enough not to back down,
strong enough to dismantle what destroys.
For surely justice will not sleep forever.
Compassion will rise from these ashes.
Those who plant seeds of love in scorched earth
will harvest a better world tomorrow.
Let mercy flow like a river,
breaking every dam of indifference.
Even as we stand in this valley of shadows,
we still believe light conquers darkness.
Come quickly, Lord.
Do it through us.
Do it today.
If this post resonated with you, please share or restack it. We truly appreciate every read, comment, share, and restack.
Lastly, we are happy to cover subscription costs for anyone who needs it but can’t afford it at this time. If you would like to join the Public Theology community and gain access to our paid subscriber content (which we keep behind a paywall for the privacy and connection of our community) but cannot afford to do so, please message Amy Lambert directly.
My morning mantra: “Show me who to be, and what is mine to do.”
Have you been peeking at my heart?