… we wait for Immanuel.
You with us.
We wait for You. We wait for You with gritted teeth, hunched shoulders, and bent backs. And still yet, many of us are blissfully unaware that it is You we are waiting for. We cry the pain comes from other places — any other place than the deepest parts of ourselves in the universe — so we are not made to face Truth.
Who makes a woman, God? Do You? Do we? Canada waits for the ruling of a small group of us to determine how woman will be in our country — how man will be; how child will be. Will a ruling from Caesar create victory or loss? Can a body politic tell a woman who she is and how she should be?
I know how I want things to be.
I know how I believe You want things to be.
In this Advent season — this waiting in angst — how much longer, Lady Wisdom, must we wait for justice?
Not our bloody justice culled by the mob.
Your love with spine.
How much longer?
Whispers from the brothels rise with the steam from subway grates: "How much longer?"… "You are so beautiful"… "Slut"… "Why did you go back to him?"… "You deserved it"… "You know you like it"… "It's your choice"… "You have no choice"… "Smile!"… "Pray for forgiveness"… "Drink it away"… "Trash"… "This is your life"… "Dirty little whore"… "Shoot it up"… "You have AIDS"… "No one loves second-hand goods"… "Don't tell!"…
… from the nail salons
… the body rub parlours
… the spas
… the hotels
… the stags
… the poles
… the clubs
… the campuses
… the houses
… dear God, how much longer! The darkness of Advent threatens to swallow us whole. Porn is a stocking stuffer, strippers are party favours, and all the while a billion unshed tears are dammned behind smiling faces, forced to please loose change and crumpled bills. This is not love. This is not choice. This is not life abundant. This is acceptable rape… and our country wants it. The bile rises in my throat and I wonder how I could love a people clamouring so loudly for smut.
Woman is not smut.
You have not created smut.
We pick it up and hurl it towards the faces of others, laugh at it dripping down cheeks, noses and lips,
… this is what we ache in the groin for.
To lust after what we have created, we first must dirty Your image. And we have done this all too well.
Oh Mother, come! Please!
Wipe the mud from our faces, soothe the beatings and slaps, and whisper into our ears:
"I love you, I love you, I love you"
"I made you, I made you, I made you"
"You are wondrous, you are wondrous, you are wondrous"
Crack that dam of a billion tears, and rain down justice like soft snow on our land — heavy, thick and quiet. Still us to immobility; keep us from racing past December 20. Stop us. Slow us. Focus us. In this time of dark waiting, do not forget us as we seek to not forget Hope.
And when she walks into a church — shaky on heels and track marks marching around her arms or lips smiling in pride or face flattened in affect — sweep over us with Your Immanuel. However December 20 is decided, still come to us
and sweep through me, through us, through Your Body that we might love as You love… and come as you come, Immanuel.
The waiting is dark and dark seems to be getting darker. Comfort us close now because the dawn seems a long way off, only getting longer. Renew our hope, renew our reconciliation, renew our Life. For all who see the flesh trade as a choice, we pray light would expose the lie…
… for those who demand prostitution, we pray light would expose their lie
… for those who sell without consent, we pray light would expose their lie
… for those who pose before cameras and call it love, we pray light would expose the lie
… for those who would condemn prostitutes as evil, we pray light would expose the lie
… for those who would teach their boys that buying sex is a rite of passage, we pray light would expose the lie
… for those who blame prostitutes for their current situations, we pray light would expose the lie
We pray for healing in our marginalized communities, and deep love in our most hurting. We pray for understanding for those who would judge, condemn and call down curses. We pray for support for those trying to escape addictions to fantasy, violence and exploitation. We pray for those bought and sold, who believe they are worth only what someone pays for their services, that You…
would be God with Her.
God with Him.
God with Them.