A reflection on Psalm 17:
I see that I’m the apple of God’s eye. But I don’t feel like a sweet honey crisp these days.
So I cry out to you, oh Lord, because this particular apple of your eye is trying to be pure, trying be sweet, trying to be just. But I’m a humble creation and my kind have been found in gardens like Eden.
There’s some who would rather I be more like a rotten, mealy, mushy, out-of-season apple like the kind my kids reject when they cry for, “More apple, Daddy!”
Hear a just cause, oh Lord, attend to my cry, guard me always as the apple of your eye.