“I am poured out like water and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me. My strength is dried up like [broken pottery] and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death” (Psalm 22:14-18, NIV).
Thanksgiving is less than a week away. It’s a holiday that brings with it the requisite intentional practice of recalling one’s blessings, all in the spirit of thankfulness that the holiday generally attributes itself to. A noble, fruitful ritual, to be sure. But what about the times in one’s life when you just don’t feel thankful? When you’re in the midst of a season of life that brings with it despair that threatens to squelch the voice of thankfulness at every attempt. How are you supposed to see God and His provisions for your life when all you see around you are unanswered prayers, silence and loneliness? Is there a place in the life of a Christian for a period of lament without the pressure of thanksgiving? Perhaps I ask this, because of how intimately despair has made itself known in my own life lately. In the midst of the joys of my life, the dark cloud of cancer has, for the past year, come to rest over my family’s home, as my dad lives his life through an endless barrage of chemo treatments, and lately, a couple of hospital stays. There have been days over the past year that counting my blessings just left me coming up short.
I’ve often turned to Psalms during periods of lament in my life, and I love how vivid and passionate David gets when he is really on a roll crying out to God. I read Psalms like Psalm 22, above, and think, wow this guy is really getting carried away. Isn’t he being just a tad dramatic? I think there’s a temptation to gloss over the moments of despair. There’s an overwhelming urge in today’s society to downplay the desolation in favor of a more upbeat message, even at the expense of authenticity. Perhaps there’s a fear that too much time spent lamenting the circumstance you’re in, and it will overwhelm and consume you. You’ll forget who God is. You won’t be a good Christian.
In the article "The Art of Lament", author, Winn Collier explores the theme of lament, and its place in one’s life as a spiritual discipline. Collier writes:
“Lament is an act of love. It recognizes that in order to truly love, one must be truly honest. David knows that if he wants his love affair with God to be true, he must be honest about his anger with God, his accusations of God, his confusion with the perplexing way God sometimes goes silent.
Lament is a way of honoring God, of taking Him seriously.”
Lament is a way of honoring God, of taking Him seriously.”
A logical place to go to in the Bible to learn more about the ‘art of lament’ is the book of Lamentations. In it, Jeremiah weeps for the destruction of Judah, and of Jerusalem, over which, he has no control. He finds himself in a position of powerlessness, as all he can do is watch the destruction unfold before him. In a lot of ways, I feel a sense of powerlessness in my own life. I hate seeing the cruel blows cancer deals indiscriminately to my dad, as well as everyone around him. And I find myself, like Jeremiah, weeping and pouring my grief out before God.
I find it striking, that in the middle of this short book, Jeremiah seems to have a breakthrough in the midst of his sorrow filled cries. In Lamentations 3:22-24 he declares:
“22 Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 24 I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”
He continues on in his declarations about God, and in verses 31-33 says:
“ 31 For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. 32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. 33 For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” (emphasis mine)
God’s promise in this passage offers reassurance in the face of our own personal ‘lamentations’. Because of His great love, we are not consumed—our circumstance, when brought before God in our grief-filled cries, will not consume us. Could it be that because Jeremiah took the time to lament properly, he was able to see so much more clearly God’s love? This Thanksgiving, by first applying the 'spiritual discipline' of lament to the darkest areas of our life, may we see God’s love and provision for our lives in a much brighter light.
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