2020 has proved to be a year of shadows and darkness; sinfulness, suffering, and spiritual attack through natural disaster, human injustice, and human sinfulness. Just a few weeks after we learned of an elderly couple from Chicago quarantined off as the first case in Chicago of a strange new virus started in Wuhan China, the whole city began to shut down because of the virus’ rapid, deadly spread.
Just days after the videos went viral of the murder of George Floyd, our own Chicago erupted like a volcano. “I can’t breathe” has become commonplace across the last decade and resounds again in our ears.
Coronavirus reminds us of the thorns and thistles of a cursed creation, the reality that sickness and death have plagued us since the original rebellion. The national outcry reminds us of racism, injustice, insecurity, misrepresentation, division, disunity, vandalism, and violence, provoked by the human heart; again, since the original rebellion.
“There is nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9).
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9).
Perhaps you feel like you haven’t lost your lantern, but you are in the dark, and you can’t seem to find the match to light the wick.
Enter Lament.
If “gospel-centered” was the Christian buzz word 10 years ago, “lament” is that word right now. We are told to lament. And we should (just like we should certainly be “gospel-centered”). But what does lament mean?
Google lament and you read: “a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.” As Christians, we remember that short book in the Bible called Lamentations.
Lament is what we call the prayer of the one desperately crying out to God in the midst of sorrow, suffering, pain, oppression, and darkness. The Lament Psalms for example, are cries of the heart to God, a broken spirit ascending like incense before our heavenly father (Revelation 5:8). They are expressions of beat up people who just wish that God would intervene, deliver the suffering, judge the wicked, and establish righteousness. It may even shock our happy-go-lucky spirituality to learn that over a third of the Psalms are actually lament (that means more than 50 Psalms!).
Theologian Federico Villanueva defines the Lament Psalms this way: “they are depictions of the psalmists’ experience of suffering.”[i] Pastor Mark Vroegop in Indianapolis says this about the lament Psalms: “The Bible gave voice to my pain.” He goes on to say: “I discovered a minor-key language for my suffering: lament.”[ii] The Bible not only tells us why we suffer in this life, but also gives us prayers to pray when our hearts are troubled and burdened beyond relief. The Lament Psalms are the churches’ voice of corporate grief.
The Lament Psalms take us somewhere. They are on the move. And the movement often looks something like this: 1) the sufferer complains about his situation and cries out desperately to God; 2) the sufferer ends by resolving to trust again in God’s steadfast love. It’s a movement from lament to praise, from sorrow to resolve. Psalm 13 is the classic example of this movement from lament to praise.
But the movement from lament to praise is not the whole story. While the Lament Psalms are always on the move, they do not always move in the same direction.
In fact, it may shock us to learn how diverse these Psalms are in their movements.
Consider a few examples:
1) From Lament to Praise: as mentioned above, this is what most people think of when they think of the Lament Psalms. Read Psalm 13. This movement teaches us that God hears our prayers, he answers, he delivers, and he strengthens. God is our rock. And we turn our eyes upon him in our pain and grief.
2) From Lament to Praise to Lament: some Psalms start with the cry of lament, then move to praise, then return again to lament, as if there is more to the story that is left a bit unresolved. Read Psalm 12. This movement teaches us that not all things are quickly resolved. Faith is often more like a journey deeper into Scripture, prayer, and the presence of God that involves ongoing struggle than a quick shift from pain to joy.
3) The Alternation between Praise and Lament: some Psalms look less like a train and more like a ferris wheel. Read Psalm 31. This Psalm moves from praise to lament to praise to lament. The alternation again reminds us that the Christian life is an ongoing process and struggle towards deeper faith and holiness. Viewing life through this lens keeps us grounded in the sure hope that God is with us even when we feel like we are on that ferris wheel of sorrow. As Paul said: “we are perplexed, but not driven to despair.”
4) The Absence of Movement: there is one Psalm that seems stagnant. There is little defined movement. This is Psalm 88. Biblical Counselor David Powlison has called it the “basement of the Psalms.” Old Testament Scholar Dennis Magary has called it the “darkest corner of the Psalter.” The last word of the Psalm is “darkness.” This Psalm is the voice of the one who is indeed driven to despair. In the moments of life when we feel we cannot say, “not driven to despair,” the Bible even gives us words for that. This is the dark night before the dawn.
The Lament Psalms are as diverse as life’s difficulties. The one thing they all have in common? They are all conversation with the living God. Even Psalm 88, the darkest lament. It may not move to joyful resolution. But the prayer is a direct address to the Lord. “I, O Lord, cry to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you” (88:13). There is no lament that is not addressed to the Lord.
How does this all connect back down to your life? When you feel alone; when you fear coronavirus, or more certainly, death; when you taste oppression, violence, misrepresentation; when you feel heavy next to a wayward spouse or apart from a wayward child; when your coworkers or friends betray you secretly and you find out; when they betray you publicly and you wish you could un-find out… on and on the list could go. In those moments, in the sufferings of life, where do you go? What do you do? What is the instinct of your heart?
Maybe, with some time and practice, the instinct of your heart will eventually be to voice a line from a Psalm. Maybe your instinct will become self-control – waiting until you are alone with the Lord to voice anger and despair and to find solace in his words given for you. Maybe your instinct will become matching your vocal chords with the vocal chords of David, the church, and ultimately Jesus, who cried out in lament to a listening God.
Do you remember Jesus’ final words? They come from Psalm 22, the lament of laments. The lament of the cross.
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). This is Jesus’ charge. But it doesn’t mean we turn off our emotions as we carry the cross. It means we turn them on with the guidance of his Word, with the voice of Scripture.
He teaches us to pray.
2020 is a dark year. It is a battleground, a wasteland, a testing of faith.
2020 is a dark year. Perhaps it will teach us to pray. Perhaps it will prove to be the dark before the dawn.
[i] Federico Villanueva, “Preaching Lament” in Reclaiming the Old Testament for Christian Preaching (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2010), 66. Villanueva is also responsible for helping me see the diverse movements of the Lament Psalms.
[ii] Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2019), 17.
Morning Renewal 