In Praise of Lament
My son sent me an article recently in which NT Wright was writing about ‘Lament.’ Lament is a noun that means ‘expressing grief.
We are, as we all know, living in unique times, times of uncertainty and great change. Times where we are presented daily with stories of sickness, death statistics, photos of mortuaries and hastily built intensive care hospitals, symptoms to watch out for and many other headlines stoking fear and anxiety. Our every day lives have changed. We are not used to seeing death and sickness like this. We are not used to feeling so out of control. We are used to seeing the airbrushed, edited lives of people via Facebook and other social media. It comes as shock to see familiar faces, such as those of our friends and colleagues, and even our Prime Minister, looking haggard and gaunt and lined, through illness.
As the Covid lockdown goes on many people are beginning to feel despair - despair at not being able to see or hug their wider family, despair over whether things will ever return to normal again… But there is a difference between despair and lament. Biblical lament is, according to N T Wright, ‘a grieving for the present situation yet acting in the hopeful assurance that God will deliver and redeem. Despair, in itself, is hopeless, a weeping for something that cannot be regained. But lament is characterised by hope.’
Which is why every day we fall on our knees before God and seek his help…
“Despair, in itself, is hopeless, a weeping for something that cannot be regained. But lament is characterised by hope.”
At all times, not just now or because of this crisis, but for multiple reasons, many of our congregation find themselves enduring traumatic experiences and harrowing situations and yet we rarely know about it. Why? Because they rarely share. And why don’t they share? Because, “Western Christian culture on the whole is not good at voicing the shadows in life. The convention of cheerful piety and reverence has led to a tendency to assume that trust precludes any form of despair and that ‘lament is unnecessary if one trusts, loves, and obeys God.’” (Allender) But we need to be able to speak out, to cry out from our suffering and plead to the loving heart of God. Should we bring back lament?
The psalms are full of lament.
Psalm 13:1,2
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
Psalm 31:9,10
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak.
Psalm 86:1-3
Hear me, Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.
Guard my life, for I am faithful to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God;
have mercy on me, Lord, for I call to you all day long.
And the Book of Common Prayer is full of Psalms. Lament has been part of worship for thousand of years. Last Summer Vinod and I went to Choral Evensong, based on the Book of Common Prayer, in the little Norman church at the edge of the village where I grew up. Every Sunday evening for as long as I can remember, and for hundreds of years before that, my parents, grandparents and great grandparents, knelt between the dusty wooden pews, in the speckled light of the stained glass windows, embracing the stillness and cold of that little stone church and sang their way through the Psalms. Week in, week out, they gathered, praising God for blessings of all kinds - love, weddings, births, healing and good harvests. But also, crying out to Him over deaths and wars, ruined harvests and illnesses with no cure…
It is only in recent years, as we have found solace in our own abilities and cleverness, through medical advance and innovation, that we have started to believe that we have all the answers - that to present less than perfection in our lives is failure and therefore to be hidden. Do we rely on our own strength to ‘get through’ because everyone around us seems to be so together, living lives of praise that we don’t feel part of? In the community of the village everyone knew each others’ happiness and hardship. They knew life could be hard, that things happen that have no rhyme or reason. They knew what it felt like to have no control over their lives and yet they faithfully stood in that cold, grey church and they praised and they lamented - because these raw emotions are proof of real relationship with God.
“They knew what it felt like to have no control over their lives and yet they faithfully stood in that cold, grey church and they praised and they lamented - because these raw emotions are proof of real relationship with God.”
There are so many of our congregation who faithfully come to church each week and ‘endure’ the cheerful holiness of the gathering while feeling bereft, angry, raw and forsaken, clinging on to their faith by their fingertips. Those who are grieving, grieving for a multitude of things, those who feel forgotten, those living with physical or mental health issues, those who’ve made mistakes and are living with them, the lonely, those who are confused and trying to make sense of who they are… Sometimes they stop coming to church, because we shy away from people becoming emotional, but often they just put on a mask of contentment. But does testimony always need to be happy? Shouldn’t there be room for lament and honesty?
The people whose testimony has touched me most over the past months, and years, have been those of people who have lamented in front of me. They have been honest enough with God and before me to say ‘Life is hard, I’m on my knees yet I still have hope.” They have had the honesty to share their struggles with me while they are still struggling. They have not waited until they are able to present their testimony as a fait accompli. They have shared in the storm and their testimony has been powerful because of their honesty.
This time of crisis has certainly given people opportunities to open up and talk honestly about their feelings. Shouldn’t we encourage people to stand at the front of church and lament, so that we can share in their lament with them? Not tales of despair and hopelessness but tales of grit and perseverance. Shouldn’t we share in the desperate struggle of faith that is taking place in their lives - the process of gold being tested in fire?
“Not tales of despair and hopelessness but tales of grit and perseverance. ”
Being a Christian doesn't mean we won’t have trials. We need to give people permission to lament, to say I’m struggling with this, to let them know that it is OK to cry, and cry out. It is as much proof of our relationship with God as praise. “Children who are confident of the love of a caregiver cry. For the Christian, our lament, when taken to our Father in heaven, is proof of our relationship with God, our connection to a great Caregiver.” (NT Wright)
Every day as we fall on our knees, cry out and seek God’s help we grow stronger and our greater dependence and deeper relationship with God ultimately brings glory to Him.
If this time of Coronavirus has taught us anything it is the realisation that illness, death, isolation, loneliness, anxiety and despair can happen to any of us, our family, our friends and our colleagues, as well as our church family. Many of us are wondering when will we see our families again. Many are fearful for their loved ones who work in hospitals, care homes or are key workers. Many have been ill and been changed by their experience. Many are questioning ‘where will this end?’ This time has surely taught us to be honest - to reject the superficial portrayal of our ‘perfect’ lives and to be open about our struggles and battles, our anxieties and our fears. It’s a time to really deepen our dependence on God and our relationship with Him. I hope that when we return to corporate church gatherings we will not forget the lessons we have learnt from this time and we will be able to honestly share, praise and lament together.
Psalm 13:5-6
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for He has been good to me.
Kate Diwakar
Toddler Pastor
References
NT Wright ‘5 Things to Know About Lament’
Dan Allender, ‘The Hidden Hope of Lament’,