O Lord, I have come to you for protection; don’t let me be disgraced. Save me and rescue me, for you do what is right. Turn your ear to listen to me, and set me free. Be my rock of safety where I can always hide. Give the order to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress. My God, rescue me from the power of the wicked, from the clutches of cruel oppressors. O Lord, you alone are my hope. I’ve trusted you, O Lord, from childhood. Yes, you have been with me from birth; from my mother’s womb you have cared for me. No wonder I am always praising you!
My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection. That is why I can never stop praising you; I declare your glory all day long. And now, in my old age, don’t set me aside. Don’t abandon me when my strength is failing. For my enemies are whispering against me. They are plotting together to kill me. They say, “God has abandoned him. Let’s go and get him, for no one will help him now.”
O God don’t stay away. My God, please hurry to help me. Bring disgrace and destruction on my accusers. Humiliate and shame those who want to harm me. But I will keep on hoping for your help; I will praise you more and more. (NLT)
Today’s psalm is a lament. It is included in Holy Week because the Christian can imagine Jesus saying these very words in the last days of his earthly life and ministry.
Lament is both important and necessary. Without lament our grief comes out sideways, inevitably harming others with our snarky vitriol. Lament gives expression to our deep grief. It enables us to come to grips with what has happened or is happening to us and within us.
A lament is an expression of personal grief to any significant change or loss; it is the normal emotional, spiritual, physical, and relational reaction to that loss.
Lamenting is an intentional process of letting go of relationships and dreams and living into a new identity after the loss or change.
Expressing grief through lament is personal; there is no one-size-fits-all.
Psalms of lament have a typical structure to them, including:
Addressing God: Crying out for help. Some psalms of lament expand to include a statement of praise or a recollection of God’s intervention in the past. (Psalm 71:1-3)
Complaint:Telling God (said with some flavor!) about our problem or experience through a range and depth of emotional, relational, and spiritual reactions to the change or loss. (Psalm 71:4)
Confession of Trust: Remaining confident in God despite the circumstances. Beginning to see problems differently. (Psalm 71:5-8)
Petition: Proclaiming confidence in God. Appealing to God for deliverance and intervention. Keep in mind that petitioning is not bargaining with God or a refusal to accept loss. Rather, it is a legitimate seeking of help. (Psalm 71:9-13)
Words of Assurance:Expressing certainty that the petition will be heard by God. (Psalm 71:14a)
Vow of Praise: Vowing to testify in the future to what God will do with praise. (Psalm 71:14b-24)
I urge you to do the following spiritual practice this Holy Week – set aside some time and craft your own psalm of lament. Choose an event from your past which created grief for you. It can be recent or from years ago. Using the structure of lament psalms, thoughtfully write out each element as I have outlined it. Then, read it aloud to God. Perhaps even take another step by reading your lament aloud to a trusted family member, friend, or Pastor.
Our grief needs the outlet of lament. Grief which is not expressed only sits in the soul and eventually, over time, can easily become putrid and rancid, poisoning our spirit, and compromising our faith. Sharing your story through lament is biblical, practical, and I will insist, necessary. Let me know how it goes…
Oh, that my grief was weighed, all of it were lifted in scales; for now it is heavier than the sands of the sea; therefore, my words are rash. The Almighty’s arrows are in me; my spirit drinks their poison, and God’s terrors are arrayed against me. Does a donkey bray over grass or an ox bellow over its fodder? Is tasteless food eaten without salt, or does egg white have taste? I refuse to touch them; they resemble food for the sick.
Oh, that what I’ve requested would come and God grant my hope; that God be willing to crush me, release his hand and cut me off. I’d still take comfort, relieved even though in persistent pain; for I’ve not denied the words of the holy one. What is my strength, that I should hope; my end, that my life should drag on? Is my strength that of rocks, my flesh bronze? I don’t have a helper for myself; success has been taken from me. (CEB)
The Old Testament character of Job is famous as the poster boy for suffering, grief, and sorrow. A divine and devilish drama was taking place behind the curtain of this world, of which Job had absolutely no clue about. All he knew was that he lost everything – his family, his wealth, and his standing before others. The only thing left was his own life – and he was in such physical pain and emotional agony that he was ready to die.
Yet, the greatest pain of all seems to be the silence of God. Job has no idea, nothing to grab ahold of no earthly sense of why he was going through such intense and terrible suffering. His cries, tears, pleas, and expressions of deep hurt seemingly go un-noticed. Job felt truly alone in his horrible pain of body and spirit.
Job’s story is as old as time – probably having taken place 4,000 years ago. And here we are, all these millennia later, knowing the story of why Job suffered, as well as the end of the story. But Job himself never knew why he suffered, even when God spoke and restored his health and wealth.
It is so extremely easy and normal to ask the question, “Why!?” When we are in the throes of emotional pain and our prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling, there is only trust left for us. We do what is unthinkable to others who have never known God – place our complete reliance and hope on the God for whom we know is not really sleeping or off on a vacation. We believe, even know, God is there. For whatever reasons which we might never know this side of heaven, God chooses to remain silent.
The genuineness of faith is not determined by giving the right answers to a theology questionnaire. Genuine faith is made strong through the trials, sufferings, pain, and lack of understanding in this life. We all suffer in some way. How we choose to respond to that suffering, either by cursing God and becoming bitter, or holding to God even tighter and becoming better, is totally up to you and me.
God of all creation, you see and survey all your creatures here on this earth. Sometimes I just do not understand what in the world you are doing or not doing. Yet today I choose to put my faith, hope, and love in you. I may not know what the heck I am doing, but you always work to accomplish your good purposes, through Jesus Christ, my Savior, along with the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Cursed be the day I was born! May the day my mother bore me not be blessed! Cursed be the man who brought my father the news, who made him very glad, saying, “A child is born to you—a son!” May that man be like the towns the Lord overthrew without pity. May he hear wailing in the morning, a battle cry at noon. For he did not kill me in the womb, with my mother as my grave, her womb enlarged forever. Why did I ever come out of the womb to see trouble and sorrow and to end my days in shame? (NIV)
Perhaps you feel as though you must put on a good face, a decent front for others to see. You don’t like other people seeing you upset or cry because it can be embarrassing. Maybe you believe others don’t need to be burdened with your sadness. The last thing you want is to be a killjoy.
Sometimes you might even put up a front with God. Maybe you think God wants everyone to be perpetually happy and always sing with the birds in blissful joy and gladness, or whistle while you work. However, that would not be an accurate view of God.
One of the most faithful people in Holy Scripture, Jeremiah, freely and unabashedly lamented before God – to the point of wishing he were dead. Jeremiah, the incredible prophet of God, closer to the Lord than anyone of his generation, was so despondent and ashamed that he wished he were never even born. The suffering and the shame were just too overwhelming.
To say that Jeremiah had a difficult ministry is a gross understatement. He literally had the ministry from hell, prophesying to people who neither liked him, nor his message to them. In the middle of it all, Jeremiah threw up his hands and let out his complaint to God. Jeremiah was in such ministerial misery that he wished he had been a stillborn baby.
Lest you think Jeremiah was sinfully depressed or just cuckoo, he is far from alone in the Bible. King David had no scruples about letting God know how he felt about his dire circumstances. Job, likely the most famous sufferer of all, spent time doing nothing but lamenting his terrible losses for months. What all three of them have in common is that they openly grieved with great tears, yet neither cursed God nor forsook the Lord.
Lamentation is the sacred space between intense grieving to God without blaming the Lord for our significant changes and losses in life. I would even argue that lamenting and grieving before God is a necessary spiritual practice which needs full recognition in the Body of Christ. Please sit with that last statement for a bit and consider how it might become a reality in your own life and context.
Grief can and does attach itself to any change or loss. It is the normal emotional, spiritual, physical, and relational reaction to that injury of the heart. There is only one way through grief. We must tell our story to another. It is both biblical and quite necessary.
We need our spirituality to support us in such times – not drive us away through a misguided theology of believing you must keep a stiff upper lip. It is critical to have safe and supportive people in our lives when going through overwhelming circumstances.
“Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion.”
Our tears are holy. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. The prophet Jeremiah was doing a very godly thing in expressing his grief. And Jeremiah’s lament is what helped steel him for the several attempts on his life that he faced.
Let the tears do their intended work in your life.
God of all, you feel deeply about a great many things. As your people, we also feel a great depth of emotion when our lives go horribly awry from our dreams and expectations. Hear our lament as we pour out our grief before you, through Jesus, our Savior, with the presence of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The LORD is my portion; therefore, I will wait for him.’” (Lamentations 3:19-24, NIV)
Every single one of us face situations at some point in our lives which cause us to grieve. In fact, grief can and does attach itself to any significant change or loss. Bereavement, divorce, major surgery, losing a job, bankruptcy, terminal diagnoses, missed expectations, bitter disappointments, and a host of adverse circumstances are all, understandably, events that bring grief to our lives. They are all cruel episodes we would rather not face.
What’s more, grief can also attach itself to the positive changes of life: moving to a new house in a new area; the empty nest; getting married; having children; a beloved pastor leaving a congregation; or, beginning a new job. These all result through some sort of loss, even if that loss were chosen and necessary.
The worst possible way to approach any of these kinds of situations, for good or for ill, is to ignore them, minimize them, say they are simply in the past, and just move on. It is, believe it or not, unbiblical to take such an attitude because Holy Scripture discerns that we need to lament our losses. In fact, we have an entire book of the Bible given to lamenting a grievous loss: The Old Testament book of Lamentations, written by the prophet Jeremiah.
Jeremiah was called by God to pronounce judgment against Jerusalem. And not only was Jeremiah to proclaim a very unpopular message, he was given the promise that the people would not listen to him and that Jerusalem would be destroyed with the people being sent into exile. The prophecy of Jeremiah is a long and extended message of a melancholy messenger preaching exactly what the Lord wanted him to preach. God’s words came true. The people did not repent of their empty worship and wayward lifestyles. They persecuted Jeremiah for speaking words of judgment. The Babylonians came and tore down the walls of Jerusalem, decimated the city and the temple, and carried off the people into exile.
Jeremiah, in his grief over the ruined city of Jerusalem, wept and lamented the loss of this once great city with its grand temple. It’s only after an extended lamentation that Jeremiah turned his attention toward the love of God, his compassions becoming new every morning, and the hope of a new existence without Jerusalem at the center of Jewish life. Jeremiah (much like the biblical character of Job) lost everything but his own life. He had much to grieve over.
Without exception, none of us can have the hope of love, compassion, and new life apart from the need to first lament our losses. There is a popular phrase in our culture that I would caution us to use very sparingly in our conversations with others who have experienced loss: “Get over it!” is often used much too quickly and can short circuit the grief process and put grieving people in the awkward position of not seeing the power of lament through to its end of acceptance, resolution, and fresh hope.
Far too many people in both the world and even the church remain stuck in some stage or level of grief, unable to effectively move on because others expect them to be joyful and triumphant when they really feel downright awful and now guilty on top of it for being sad.
I would like you to hear me loud and clear on this: embracing lament is the only pathway to knowing compassion and becoming a compassionate person like Jesus. Wallpapering over our losses without lamenting them is at the root of many if not most of the emotional problems in the church and the world today.
Jerry Sittser wrote an important book, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss. Sittser tells of the time when he was driving his family’s minivan when a drunk driver crossed the road and hit them head on. In an instant he watched three generations of his family die in front of his eyes: his mother, his wife, and his daughter. If anyone knows the need and the power of lament it is Jerry Sittser. And here is what he says:
“Catastrophic loss, by definition, precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same…. I did not get over my loved ones’ loss; rather I absorbed the loss into my life until it became part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it.”
Nicholas Wolterstorff is a Yale philosophy professor. In his book, Lament for a Son, he talks about losing his twenty-five-year-old son to a mountain climbing accident. He has no explanations – just grief. At one point he had a profound insight:
“Through the prism of my tears I have seen a suffering God. It is said of God that no one can behold his face and live. I always thought this meant that no one can see his splendor and live. But I have come to see that it more likely means that no one can see his sorrow and survive.”
We all accumulate an unwanted host of losses over the course of a lifetime. Many of them are small losses; some of them are devastating losses. The death of children, disability, rape, abuse, cancer, infertility, suicide, and betrayal are all examples of crushing loss – losses that need to experience lament. All these losses are irreversible; we cannot return to how things once were. We must push forward by grieving every loss as they come to us. As we lurch ahead we cling to these words of Jeremiah: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
So, how do we lament our losses in a healthy way? Here is what Jeremiah did:
Jeremiah remembered his afflictions and his losses. We need to avoid superficial repentance and forgiveness. We must own and feel the pain of the loss before we can begin to offer a mature forgiveness.
Jeremiah paid attention to faith, hope, and love. This can only be done if we are alert to the process of grieving. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was the person who identified the famous five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and resolution/acceptance. We rarely move neatly through each stage. The important thing is that we get to the place of seeing God’s committed love for us – not only in-spite-of the suffering, but because of it.
Jeremiah did not minimize his pain and suffering. We must sit with our pain. Do not sluff-off our loss by saying others have it worse, or that it is nothing. Year after year many Christians do not confront the losses of life, minimizing their failures and disappointments. The result is a profound inability to face pain, and it has led to shallow spirituality and an acute lack of compassion.
Jeremiah prophesied about how Jesus grieved. His message predicted what Jesus faced in his Passion. The prophet Isaiah described Messiah as a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. At the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus did not say “Okay everyone, stop all this crying” but wept with the people. When entering Jerusalem, Jesus did not say “too bad guys, I’m moving on without you” but lamented over the city, desiring to gather them as a hen does her chicks. On the cross, Jesus did not say “Lighten up everyone; God is good; he will be victorious!” But instead said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Hebrews 5:8 tells us that Jesus “learned obedience from what he suffered.”
Grieving is an indispensable part of a full-orbed spirituality and emotional health. Life does not always make sense. There is deep mystery to the ways of God. The Lord is doing patient and careful work inside of each one of us. While he is busy within our souls, we will likely feel lost and disconnected, not seeing the full tapestry of what he is creating. Weariness, loneliness, a sense that prayers are not being heard, and a feeling of helplessness are all common experiences of God’s reconstruction of a broken spirit.
John Milton’s classic piece of literature, Paradise Lost, compares the evil of history to a compost pile – a mixture of decaying food, animal manure, dead leaves, and whatever else you put on it. Yet, if you cover the compost with dirt, after a long while it no longer smells. The soil becomes a rich natural fertilizer and is ideal for growing a garden. But you need to be willing to wait, in some cases, years. Milton’s point was that the worst events of history and the evil we experience are compost in God’s overall plan. Out of the greatest wrong ever done, the betrayal, crucifixion, and death of Jesus, came the greatest good – God transformed the stench of evil into good without diminishing the awfulness of that evil.
People who have truly lamented their losses are not hard to spot. They have a greater capacity to wait on God and be patient toward others. They are kinder and more compassionate. They lack pretense and are liberated from trying to impress others. They are comfortable with mystery, not having to be certain about every theological minutiae. They are humble, gentle, and meek. They possess and ability to see God not only in the glorious and victorious, but in the mundane, banal, and lowly. They are more at home with themselves and with God. People transformed through the power of lament are equipped to love others as Jesus did.
Maybe we are always running, working, and playing because we are constantly trying to outrun the painful grief which resides within. So, please, my friend, slow down and let it catch you. Let it do its deep and powerful work within you.