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What is lament and why is it necessary?
It is the expression of pain and distress to God verbally, bodily, sometimes communally often set to music.
In Scripture we see common elements and movement in lament passages that bring order out of the chaos of pain. Let’s consider Psalm 22, which is a very well-known psalm of lament.
Accusation: Verse 1 – My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?
Appeal: Verse 11 – Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.
Confidence in God’s response: Verse 24 – He has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.
Hymn, blessing, or praise: Verse 26 – The poor will eat and be satisfied; those who seek the Lord will praise him— may your hearts live forever!
If this form of prayer is unfamiliar, you’re not alone. The power of lament has been minimized in our culture and in the North American church.
While many of us experience some form of suffering or pain in our lives, the underlying narrative of suffering that requires lament has been eliminated from our lives due to our relative affluence.
Why and how has this happened?
Walter Brueggemann writes about a contrast between the “have-nots” versus the “haves” in the world. The “have-nots” develop a view of themselves and the world of suffering and survival. The “haves” develop a view of celebration.
Those who live under suffering are aware of the uncertainty of their situation. Worship that arises out of this sort of life cries out for deliverance.
Lament is the language of suffering.
In contrast, those who live in celebration and affluence are concerned with maintaining a happy life in joyous celebration. Instead of deliverance, they seek constancy and sustainability.
The wealthy don’t expect to begin their praise of God by crying out to him, but rather, in a song of praise to him. They rejoice in stability and durability of a world and social order that have been beneficial to them.
Praise is the language of celebration.
If you think about the church that gathers from a place of celebration or affluence, we do not want our lives changed, because our lives are good.
But, lament recognizes the struggles of life and cries out for justice. The status quo is not celebrated but challenged.
What do we lose as a result of this imbalance?
The absence of lament in the church results in the loss of memory. We forget the necessity of lamenting over suffering and pain.
In an effort to focus on our relationship with God, I will highlight three main things we lose: Honesty with God, a full life in the spirit, and praise.
There is more to lose than this when lament is not a part of our lives and worship, but for the sake of this morning, we will only look at these three.
Honesty with God
Tish Harrison Warren writes, “If our gathered worship expresses only unadulterated trust, confidence, victory, and renewal, we are learning to be less honest with God than the Scriptures themselves are.”
Hebrews 5:7 – During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.
I spoke about this verse a couple months ago on the topic of praying for the future. I said, when we come to God with our requests, we are heard by him because of both who he is and because of how we are asking, not because of our choice of words.
Reverence and awe of God leads us to ask him for that which will bring fulness to his glory in our lives. We so often forget what it means to bring glory to God in our lives. It means God’s character is shown in both the good and bad in our lives.
Honesty with God does not mean being irreverent or disrespectful toward him or others. It means we share with him what is truly making us feel pain and sorrow. Not just what we think he wants to hear.
It also means we cry out to him even when he seems distant and silent, trusting that he will hear us and respond to us like a loving parent does with their child.
If you have ever cared for a baby, even if the baby is not yours, you know that crying is the way they communicate their needs. If you know the child well, you may become familiar with what different cries mean.
I once heard a disturbing story about babies in orphanages who don’t cry and I found an article this week that confirmed the story.
In orphanages, babies can be left alone for long periods of time as caregivers have many children to take care of. If toddlers lay quietly awake in their cots, this does not mean they are “good” children or content.
Their silence means they have given up asking for their needs to be met.
At feeding time, babies are often propped up on pillows with the bottle, instead of being held. No bedtime stories, no hugs, no reassurance from mum or dad at lights out. (link to source)
This made me wonder about our relationship with God. If we never learn how to cry out to him, we go on about our lives comforting ourselves or seeking comfort from other things because we think God is silent.
God is not like the orphanages. He is near to us and capable of tending to our needs. We do not need to suffer in silence.
Perhaps if you think God is silent, it’s because you have not cried out to him. I don’t mean saying your prayers at mealtimes and at night and asking for the right things using the right words. I mean being really honest with him, like in the Psalms of Lament or in Lamentations or in Job.
Job 3 –
3 “May the day of my birth perish,
and the night that said, ‘A boy is conceived!’
4 That day—may it turn to darkness;
may God above not care about it;
may no light shine on it.
5 May gloom and utter darkness claim it once more;
may a cloud settle over it;
may blackness overwhelm it.
Why is life given to a man
whose way is hidden,
whom God has hedged in?
24 For sighing has become my daily food;
my groans pour out like water.
25 What I feared has come upon me;
what I dreaded has happened to me.
26 I have no peace, no quietness;
I have no rest, but only turmoil.”
Psalm 142
I cry aloud to the Lord;
I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.
2 I pour out before him my complaint;
before him I tell my trouble.
3 When my spirit grows faint within me,
it is you who watch over my way.
In the path where I walk
people have hidden a snare for me.
4 Look and see, there is no one at my right hand;
no one is concerned for me.
I have no refuge;
no one cares for my life.
5 I cry to you, Lord;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”
6 Listen to my cry,
for I am in desperate need;
rescue me from those who pursue me,
for they are too strong for me.
7 Set me free from my prison,
that I may praise your name.
Then the righteous will gather about me
because of your goodness to me.
Lamentations was written by the prophet, Jeremiah, after The Babylonians invaded Israel, burned down the temple, destroyed the city, and took away the people.
Lamentations 2:5,11
The Lord is like an enemy;
he has swallowed up Israel.
He has swallowed up all her palaces
and destroyed her strongholds.
He has multiplied mourning and lamentation
for Daughter Judah.
My eyes fail from weeping,
I am in torment within;
my heart is poured out on the ground
because my people are destroyed,
because children and infants faint
in the streets of the city.
Lament, however, does not end this way. Jeremiah is expressing how he feels and what is causing him pain and suffering. He is pouring out his heart toward God.
Lament always turns people to God, knowing that he is in control and can deliver us from our suffering.
2:19
Arise, cry out in the night,
as the watches of the night begin;
pour out your heart like water
in the presence of the Lord.
Lift up your hands to him
for the lives of your children,
who faint from hunger
at every street corner.
A full life in the Spirit
Romans 8:22-26
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.
Where there is lament, or groaning, in the life of a believer, there is the ability to take initiative with God, to increase in spiritual maturity. Without lament, the capacity to fully engage in relationship with God is reduced to only praise.
This does not represent the fullness of our human experience. We start to develop a false image of ourselves, thinking that we have little faith or are bad Christians if we cannot bring ourselves to praise God.
As it says in Romans 8, our experience as we wait eagerly for complete renewal, we groan inwardly.
Interestingly, there have been recent studies done on this from a medical perspective. One of my favourite podcasts is from Andrew Huberman, who is a neuroscientist.
He talks about the need for us to practice what he refers to as a physiological sigh. This practice came out of an observation of how when young children cry, and they need to recover their breath, they will do a double inhale.
Huberman suggests that, in our times of high stress or pain, we do this double-inhale in order to help recover.
This is similar to the groaning that Paul writes about. We have no words, and so we groan, we sigh, we breath differently. This is not a particularly spiritual practice, but a physical one. Remember, God made us both physical and spiritual. They work together.
So, when we are feeling spiritual pain, just as when we feel emotional or physical pain, we express that pain with our whole self.
When we understand ourselves as people who still experience the effects of sin, which causes suffering, and when we see God as someone who has willingly entered into that experience, we can cry out to him in lament, freeing us from the guilt of not measuring up. We can sigh in the presence of God.
He knows our pain and he wants us to experience fullness of life, not by the removal of all pain and suffering in this life, but by walking with us through it.
This brings us to the third thing we lose with the loss of lament…
Praise
This is a subject we will come back to as we approach Easter, for it is on Easter Sunday that we see the ultimate resolution of lament. So, I will only say a few words about it here.
I’m going to read Psalm 28 and let’s observe how lament moves from plea to praise.
To you, Lord, I call;
you are my Rock,
do not turn a deaf ear to me.
For if you remain silent,
I will be like those who go down to the pit.
2 Hear my cry for mercy
as I call to you for help,
as I lift up my hands
toward your Most Holy Place.
3 Do not drag me away with the wicked,
with those who do evil,
who speak cordially with their neighbors
but harbor malice in their hearts.
4 Repay them for their deeds
and for their evil work;
repay them for what their hands have done
and bring back on them what they deserve.
5 Because they have no regard for the deeds of the Lord
and what his hands have done,
he will tear them down
and never build them up again.
6 Praise be to the Lord,
for he has heard my cry for mercy.
7 The Lord is my strength and my shield;
my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.
My heart leaps for joy,
and with my song I praise him.
8 The Lord is the strength of his people,
a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
9 Save your people and bless your inheritance;
be their shepherd and carry them forever.
In verse 2, we read:
Hear my cry for mercy
as I call to you for help,
as I lift up my hands
toward your Most Holy Place.
Then in verse 6:
Praise be to the Lord,
for he has heard my cry for mercy.
Lament is resolved by and corresponds to the song of thanksgiving. The song of thanksgiving is in fact the lament restated after the crisis has been dealt with.
When we read a Psalm like this, we often cannot relate to it. We don’t deal with the literal situations being mentioned in the Psalm.
The point is not for the situations to be relatable, rather it is the experience of dependence on God as the deliverer of our suffering that is relatable.
As I said at the beginning, those who live under suffering are aware of the uncertainty of their situation. Worship that arises out of a life of suffering cries out for deliverance and they praise God because of how he has rescued them from suffering.
The wealthy don’t typically begin their praise of God by crying out to him. They rejoice when stability and constancy are upheld. We are immune to the lingering effects of suffering for most of our lives.
However, the proper setting of praise is actually as lament resolved. Praise is best understood in response to God’s intervention, which is summoned by the lament.
We cry out and God answers us, as we heard earlier in the service from Psalm 30,
You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12 that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Lord my God, I will praise you forever.
Sources:
The Costly Loss of Lament, Walter Brueggemann
Prophetic Lament, Soong-Chan Rah
Prayer in the Night, Tish Harrison Warren
William Knelsen 