Definition of Lament:
intransitive verb
: to mourn aloud; wail
transitive verb
- : to express sorrow, mourning, or regret for often demonstratively
- : to regret strongly
(from the Merriam-Webster dictionary)
I had to write a personal lament for a seminary class.
It wasn’t hard. At all. Not after an emotionally draining week.
Last Thursday, my wife and I went to a fundraiser for the Mission to Promote Adoption of Kids, where we heard stories about orphans in Korea who age out of the system and face discrimination.
Many can’t get jobs because of their status as orphans, and those who do get work are vulnerable to abuse – including sexual – by bosses who know they have no family to protect them.
These orphans face high rates of depression, homelessness, and suicide.
Why, God?
In a land where my son and I once counted 93 churches along the way during a 2-hour bus ride through the countryside? How can this be happening?
Doesn’t Your Word tell us to care for orphans?
I lament.
Then, on Saturday, my two kids were at a birthday party, having fun with their friends, when three older, bigger kids who weren’t part of the party attacked my 7-year-old, hurling balls at his face and calling him “stupid Asian kid” while smacking him around.
Too many emotions to articulate…
My feelings weren’t just directed at the bullies and their parents, but at a climate that demonizes the “other.” What makes racist bullies think they can verbally and physically attack a little boy in public and get away with it?
I grieve.
On Sunday, 26 of our brothers and sisters in Christ, including children, were murdered while worshiping at a Texas church.
I wail.
And, as if the horrific massacre wasn‘t reason enough to grieve, public figures mocked faith, prayer, church, and God.
I mourn.
I lament.
I wrestle with mixed emotions.
So I write.
Lord, my spirit groans in anguish.
My heart weighed down with dismay.
Your name is mocked and used in vain.
When will you silence your enemies?
With delight, they point to evil deeds
they mock your people with glee.
They taunt your children, “Where is your God?”
and attempt to snatch seeds from the path.
They elevate those who take your name in vain,
who recite your word without obeying it.
Who deny the power of your Spirit, O God
and make their own power their god.
Who ignore the plank in their own eye
while casting the first stone at another.
Who brush past the widows and orphans
as they hasten towards gilded temples.
Their gods are crafted by their own hands
yet are quick to call others godless.
They worship with the noise of their songs
while the hungry lie naked outside the door.
They bring extra shirts, sandals, and staffs in their bag,
trusting in chariots for their journey.
Overturned tables returned upright
by thieves conducting business in their den.
Forgive me, O Lord, for casting these stones,
for ignoring my plank for a speck.
But your name is precious, may it not be mocked
or used in vain any longer.
Lord, drop the scales from our eyes.
May we see our ways through your eyes.
Then, may we turn back to your mercy and grace
and be restored in our fellowship with you.
May your name be glorified throughout all the earth.
May you be worshipped from mountain to sea.
May your Word be savored and lived by,
for You alone are the One who saves.
2 Comments
Beautifully done Stephen. I’m always amazed at how in the process of pouring out their disappointment, anger, and sense of injustice the lamenting psalmist almost always ends up hopeful and praising the Lord. Seems almost counter-intuitive. It’s so encouraging to me that God doesn’t judge those that lament, but that the Bible seems to encourage it and it seems that since God already knows what we’re feeling, He much prefers that we come to Him with our feelings and bitterness and process it with Him. Just another way that God amazes me.
Thanks again so much for sharing this.
Thanks, Wade. My theology received a needed shot in the butt when I studied the Psalms. One-third of them are laments, teaching us that it’s ok to lament to God, but somewhere along the line, church culture seems to have swayed towards prosperity gospel, the #blessed thing, and the chipper worship John Piper talks about. When believers feel that we need to always present an “I’m fine; everything is fine” front, we hide our pain, and instead of lamenting to God, we turn elsewhere, vulnerable to drowning our sorrows in unhealthy ways. The Church risks being rendered impotent in ministering to those in pain and slides further towards irrelevance to the world. Thanks again for engaging the conversation, Wade.