“I don’t know a soul that’s not been battered; I don’t know a friend who feels at ease. I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered or driven to it’s knees.”
-“The American Tune” by Simon & Garfunkel
We sat cross-legged on the floor, in our darkened room, tea lights softly flickering in the shape of the cross. It was a reverent space, one designed for us to take the time to walk the way of the cross-the events leading up to the resurrection of Jesus. We read the timeless words of Matthew, the girls asked questions, and then we listened to some songs specifically chosen to help them understand the historical times of Jerusalem. “They laid his body in the tomb……” We pondered what it would be like to be a disciple of Jesus, to hear of his death, to hide away in their homes, unsure of who could be arrested next, to feel hopeless that their teacher was dead, not to understand why, and oh the questions they must have had. Then we blew out the final candle, prayed, and lingered in this space of lamentation.
But what exactly does it mean to lament? If you had asked me this question, even a few years back, I would have looked at you with a blank expression written all over my face. Yet, I have been through some dark seasons since that time and little-by-little, I have begun a journey on what it means to lament.
In fact, during this recent season of our worldwide epidemic, it is as if God is teaching me speed lessons on this topic. Although, I confess that a part of me, honestly all of me, went kicking and screaming like a spoiled child denied her favorite candy.
When COVID19 restrictions first came to our neck of the woods, or rather to our spot of civilization out in the Ugandan bush, my biggest concern was that my personal planner (or diary as my British friends call it) ran out in July, and since all international travel had been canceled, there was no way I was getting a new one. I panicked a bit (you planners out there-you get it right?). Fast forward a few weeks (which seems like eons at this point), and I can laugh with my friend about it now. We talked about how we can’t even plan next week, much less next month; laughing so much my eyes teared up. My how our perspectives change, huh? I, like many of you, have been greatly disappointed in how NOTHING these past few months has gone as expected and the reality that they will continue to change, that I am a bit paralyzed in trying to plan a few months down the road. It’s all I can do to thrive each day. It takes every bit of my energy to focus on living intentionally, choosing to walk by faith and not fear, by the Spirit during this current chaos.
I realize that this is a very superficial level of disappointment in light of the many other struggles that people globally are facing with the ramifications of COVID19. There has not been one of us who has not been affected in some way by this current pandemic. Job loss, depression and anxiety spiking in those already struggling, an increased feeling of isolation and emptiness, hunger and possible starvation in third world countries already struggling to survive on any given day, families saying goodbye via video chat rather than in person, weddings or honeymoons postponed or drastically altered, people struggling with cancer or other life-threatening illnesses now facing an even greater killer…..difficulties and hardships compounded with this new struggle all over the world. I cannot help by wonder, is God calling us to a time to lament?
What does that even mean?
In a recent IMB (International Mission Board) article, the writer stressed the importance of us learning the language of lament. “This historic prayer language is how the people of God vocalized their sorrow, poured out their frustrations, and mourned their exile. Over a third of the Psalms feature this minor-key song. This divinely given liturgy creates a pathway for navigating the fears, frustrations, unfairness, and conflicts of life. Instead of allowing the pressures of ministry to create despair or a stoic denial, lament invites us to talk to God with all the messiness and grit required for perseverance. Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust. It is the emotional language of loss as Christians turn to God in their sorrow, lay out their complaints, ask boldly for God’s help, and recommit themselves to trust. A few notable examples are Psalms 13, 10, 22 and 77. Lament moves us through the pains of life and leads us to reaffirm our trust in God.”
The Bible has so many places where we see grief and sorrow vividly displayed-raw, ugly, riveting pain that cannot help but render depths of emotion from our very own souls as we relate-from books like Lamentations to Job in his immense suffering to Psalm after Psalm where David poured out his heart before the Lord in wide open, holding nothing back emotion.
When Lazarus, one of the friends of Jesus died and Jesus reached his home, the John 11 account says that Jesus wept. He revealed the compassion in his heart and paused to grieve with the people, even knowing that He would use his power to raise him back to life again. WHEW! That is something, isn’t it? Another time in the Scriptures, when Jesus is about to enter Jerusalem, Luke says he wept over the city. (Luke 19:41-44). He knew the city would reject him, he felt it deeply and was moved to tears. If Jesus, fully God and fully man, allowed emotion to pour forth from him like water from a stream, then surely I can lament with a Savior like that.
If the words of Ecclesiastes 3 are true and there is a time or season for everything, then there must also be a time to spend intentionally dwelling in our sorrows. In his book, “The Emotionally Healthy Church” by Peter Scazzero, the author talks about grief when we do not deal with it. He said, “Stuffed down and denied, losses gather in our souls like heavy stones that weigh us down…loss is loss. It is the norm of life, not the exception….What is universal is that we all experience sorrows and are invited to grieve and grow through them.”
I’ve been going through a “Mourning and Dancing” study by She Reads Truth; slowly sitting at the feet of Jesus, soaking up his presence as I lament different things. My girls and I sat one day, penning words that expressed our grief over COVID19, how it has affected our world, and the rest of the larger one. Our spirits felt burdened within us, like black storm clouds, swollen with heavy rain needing to be released. We wrote, and we wrote some more until we had finished laments that gave way to our grief. It was a very healing time, and we walked away from it feeling heard and loved by God. We listened to “Weep with Me” by Rend Collective and drew strength from the heartfelt words of beseeching our Savior to mourn with us.
This week I listened to a podcast that talked about using music to help us lament. Joy Clarkson, the speaker, shared, “There is this holy space reserved in the holy cannon of scripture….where God says pour out your lament and weep….As a culture we are used to lamenting in private, in isolation, if at all. Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion calls us to lament together as the church. (Help Me Lament! Episode #101, Speaking with Joy).
God continues to teach me different ways to express my mourning-turning to His word, listening to worship music, or wringing out heartfelt tones with each violin note strung. I gain wisdom from listening to podcasts and preachers on the subject along with shared discussions with my husband and close friends. I continue to grow in this practice, and I feel it will be a life-long endeavor.
The words from Sir Henry Taylor resonate more and more with me: “He that lacks time to mourn lacks time to mend.” So, during this forced slow down pace of life that COVID has provided for us, I am making time to mourn, to lament before the Lord.
During this unprecedented season, let us, as the global church share what we are learning with one another. This blog is the beginning of a series concerning this topic, join me on this collective journey, discovering a deeper faith together. We press forward to the hope of our Jesus and the promise of heaven where tears and suffering will be no more and a time to lament will be finished.
But until then, let us take time to lament.
