God of My Bitter Hours
You knelt in the Gethsemane garden
In the final hours before your death,
The sweat of bloody regret on your brow.
We, too, have our painful episodes
When the bitter taste of obvious defeat
Barricades any hope of comfort and release.
You join us in our bitter hours of struggle
When opposition, discontent, or lament
Block the corridors to our peacefulness.
You reassure us, “This, too, will pass.”
~by Joyce Rupp (Inspired by Karl Rahner)