But if I say, “Forget it!
No more God-Messages from me!”
The words are fire in my belly,
a burning in my bones.
I’m worn out trying to hold it in.
I can’t do it any longer!
Curse the day
I was born!
The day my mother bore me—
a curse on it, I say!
He should have killed me before I was born,
with that womb as my tomb,
My mother pregnant for the rest of her life
with a baby dead in her womb.
Eugene H. Peterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2005), Je 20:8–9, 14,16.
Father, you birth in your servants words we cannot bear to speak. Grant that we may find comfort in your love and mercy. That, in the end we can fulfill our calling by the power of the Holy Spirit, with Christ-like humility and obedience to the Glory of your name.
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