by Michael Spencer - Internet Monk
When someone says I’ve written something I shouldn’t have written, you can be almost certain that I’ve written something using the language of lament. L-A-M-E-N-T.
All of you that just said “huh?” please step into the side room. If you came in a bus, they’ll wait. It’s time for a lesson on some of the most important parts of the Bible that you won’t be hearing in church.
Lament is a form of language used THROUGHOUT THE BIBLE (excuse the shouting) when human beings respond to their experience of God seeming to not keep his covenant promises to them. Lament is “Where are you Lord? What are you doing? Why are you against me? How could you let this happen? I did what you commanded, and now this? My life is miserable. Where is God?” If you’re like most Christians, you know this stuff is in the Bible, but your pastor never gets near it at the risk of a deacons meeting to ask why he’s lost his faith.
Lament is a kind of mourning, and it’s a very legitimate and common Biblical form of prayer. It’s part of how the Bible teaches us to pray and worship. It sounds radical in the Bible, and it sounds downright dangerous in contemporary usage.
For example, read Jeremiah 20:7-18. Here are some some highlights, rephrased into the vernacular by me:
God, you’ve conned me. You’ve made me into a laughingstock. Your word is a cause of derision and rejection. I’d love to stop talking about you, but unfortunately I can’t. Cursed be the day I was born. It would have been better if I’d died in the womb, or my mother murdered, than to live this life.
Or try Jeremiah 15:15-21.
God, I did everything you asked me to, but it now appears you have just given me unceasing pain, refused to take it away and proven yourself to be deceitful.
Yes, he said deceitful. Lamenters don’t always get their theology right. In the midst of pain, our prayers and complaints are covered up in emotion, and that emotion often isn’t the kind of “everything in its place” theology smiley happy religious people need.
Similar material can be found throughout the Bible, from whole chapters in Job to long sections of the Psalms to statements by Jesus that we all know, like “Why have you forsaken me?” As I said, we all know it’s there, but we don’t like to think about what it means. We’re trained to stick with what won’t make anyone blink and wince.
Lament can be direct and blunt, full of anger, depression and bitterness, directed at God in direct address. It can be subdued and quiet, barely detectable. It can be complaints to other persons of faith, or it can simply be the lamenter talking to him/herself.
Abraham lamented. So did Moses. So did David. So did Job. So did most of the prophets and yes, even Jesus on occasion.
Communal laments are common in the Psalms, reflecting Israel’s experience of questioning the covenant and experiencing the dark side of their faith. You’ll never read the Psalms in a disciplined way without having to deal with the implications of lamentation and the goodness/sovereignty of God.
An entire book of the older testament laments the destruction of Jerusalem, the temple and covenant certainties.
So, how does this get a writer or preacher in trouble again?
When contemporary Christians, especially preachers and teachers, use the language of lament, it’s Biblical context is lost on some hearers, and all they hear is doubt and denial. (Trust me on that one. I have much experience.) In fact, what they are actually hearing is faith; faith finding its voice and regaining its foundation after distressing life experiences and disappointments.
The language of lament is not welcome in most contemporary Christianity. Evangelicals in particular must be held responsible for creating an atmosphere where a person in pain and loss cannot speak in the SAME LANGUAGE THE BIBLE USES (excuse the caps. Sorry.) without running the risk of controversy and heresy.
How many churches have people who need to have their own unspoken laments affirmed by the Biblical language of lament and the experiences of God’s people in lamentation, but are denied the opportunity to feel human because Christians are so invested in maintaining illusions.
Ironically, Christians specialize in the language of glory and triumph, gullibly believing any report of miracles and healings must be true in order to prove that God is still doing what they’ve been told he should always do, but it is the experience and language of lament- disappointment and sorrow- that would tell honest unbelievers that we live in the same world as they do, yet still believe in God. Our proficiency in triumphalism backfires with the genuine souls who want to know if God is still there when he seems so absent.
Calvin Seerveld has penned a contemporary congregational lament. Ask yourself if this reading could find a place in your church? Does it have a place in the faith journey of a Christian? Or are we destined to be a happy, clappy people despite the truths of our lives?
Why, Lord, must evil seem to get its way?
We do confess our sin is deeply shameful;
but now the wicked openly are scornful,
they mock your name and laugh at our dismay.
We know your providential love holds true:
nothing can curse us endlessly with sorrow.
Transform, dear Lord, this damage into good;
show us your glory, hidden by this evil.
Why, Lord must he be sentenced, locked away?
True, he has wronged his neighbor and has failed you.
Yet none of us is innocent and sinless;
only by grace we follow in your way.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must she be left to waste away?
Do you not see how painfully she suffers?
Could you not change the curse of this disaster?
Amaze us by your mighty sovereignty.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must broken vows cut like a knife?
How can one wedded body break in pieces?
We all have failed at being pure and faithful;
only by grace we keep our solemn vows.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, did you abruptly take him home?
Could you not wait to summon him before you?
Why must we feel the sting of death’s old cruelty?
Come quickly, Lord, do not leave us alone.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must any child of yours be hurt?
Does all our pain and sorrow somehow please you?
You are a God so jealous for our praises
hear this lament as prayer that fills the earth.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Text Calvin Seerveld, I986. c 7 986, Calvin Seerveld. Used by permission.
There are many excellent resources on lament. Evangelicals can learn much from the writings and music of Michael Card who has two books on lament- both excellent- and is now doing teaching on the subject. Here are two mp3s of Card teaching on lament, and particularly how lament changes our thinking about God.
Some excellent articles on lament are available on the web. Check out this one at Reformed Worship. Then do a search of back issues under the search term “lament.”
One of the ways the church makes itself expendable, even intolerable, to some serious Jesus followers is the rejection and devaluing of the language of lament. We are human beings and our experience of God is sometimes one of sorrow and pain. Such an experience becomes part of our prayer, our affirmation of faith and our corporate witness.
Michael Horton says the evangelical church has decided no one can sing or play the blues in church.
That’s a very bad, and dishonest, decision. Singing the blues to God is honest, and the ailing evangelicalism around us is dying for lack of honesty.
When someone says I’ve written something I shouldn’t have written, you can be almost certain that I’ve written something using the language of lament. L-A-M-E-N-T.All of you that just said “huh?” please step into the side room. If you came in a bus, they’ll wait. It’s time for a lesson on some of the most important parts of the Bible that you won’t be hearing in church.
Lament is a form of language used THROUGHOUT THE BIBLE (excuse the shouting) when human beings respond to their experience of God seeming to not keep his covenant promises to them. Lament is “Where are you Lord? What are you doing? Why are you against me? How could you let this happen? I did what you commanded, and now this? My life is miserable. Where is God?” If you’re like most Christians, you know this stuff is in the Bible, but your pastor never gets near it at the risk of a deacons meeting to ask why he’s lost his faith.
Lament is a kind of mourning, and it’s a very legitimate and common Biblical form of prayer. It’s part of how the Bible teaches us to pray and worship. It sounds radical in the Bible, and it sounds downright dangerous in contemporary usage.
For example, read Jeremiah 20:7-18. Here are some some highlights, rephrased into the vernacular by me:
God, you’ve conned me. You’ve made me into a laughingstock. Your word is a cause of derision and rejection. I’d love to stop talking about you, but unfortunately I can’t. Cursed be the day I was born. It would have been better if I’d died in the womb, or my mother murdered, than to live this life.
Or try Jeremiah 15:15-21.
God, I did everything you asked me to, but it now appears you have just given me unceasing pain, refused to take it away and proven yourself to be deceitful.
Yes, he said deceitful. Lamenters don’t always get their theology right. In the midst of pain, our prayers and complaints are covered up in emotion, and that emotion often isn’t the kind of “everything in its place” theology smiley happy religious people need.
Similar material can be found throughout the Bible, from whole chapters in Job to long sections of the Psalms to statements by Jesus that we all know, like “Why have you forsaken me?” As I said, we all know it’s there, but we don’t like to think about what it means. We’re trained to stick with what won’t make anyone blink and wince.
Lament can be direct and blunt, full of anger, depression and bitterness, directed at God in direct address. It can be subdued and quiet, barely detectable. It can be complaints to other persons of faith, or it can simply be the lamenter talking to him/herself.
Abraham lamented. So did Moses. So did David. So did Job. So did most of the prophets and yes, even Jesus on occasion.
Communal laments are common in the Psalms, reflecting Israel’s experience of questioning the covenant and experiencing the dark side of their faith. You’ll never read the Psalms in a disciplined way without having to deal with the implications of lamentation and the goodness/sovereignty of God.
An entire book of the older testament laments the destruction of Jerusalem, the temple and covenant certainties.
So, how does this get a writer or preacher in trouble again?
When contemporary Christians, especially preachers and teachers, use the language of lament, it’s Biblical context is lost on some hearers, and all they hear is doubt and denial. (Trust me on that one. I have much experience.) In fact, what they are actually hearing is faith; faith finding its voice and regaining its foundation after distressing life experiences and disappointments.
The language of lament is not welcome in most contemporary Christianity. Evangelicals in particular must be held responsible for creating an atmosphere where a person in pain and loss cannot speak in the SAME LANGUAGE THE BIBLE USES (excuse the caps. Sorry.) without running the risk of controversy and heresy.
How many churches have people who need to have their own unspoken laments affirmed by the Biblical language of lament and the experiences of God’s people in lamentation, but are denied the opportunity to feel human because Christians are so invested in maintaining illusions.
Ironically, Christians specialize in the language of glory and triumph, gullibly believing any report of miracles and healings must be true in order to prove that God is still doing what they’ve been told he should always do, but it is the experience and language of lament- disappointment and sorrow- that would tell honest unbelievers that we live in the same world as they do, yet still believe in God. Our proficiency in triumphalism backfires with the genuine souls who want to know if God is still there when he seems so absent.
Calvin Seerveld has penned a contemporary congregational lament. Ask yourself if this reading could find a place in your church? Does it have a place in the faith journey of a Christian? Or are we destined to be a happy, clappy people despite the truths of our lives?
Why, Lord, must evil seem to get its way?
We do confess our sin is deeply shameful;
but now the wicked openly are scornful,
they mock your name and laugh at our dismay.
We know your providential love holds true:
nothing can curse us endlessly with sorrow.
Transform, dear Lord, this damage into good;
show us your glory, hidden by this evil.
Why, Lord must he be sentenced, locked away?
True, he has wronged his neighbor and has failed you.
Yet none of us is innocent and sinless;
only by grace we follow in your way.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must she be left to waste away?
Do you not see how painfully she suffers?
Could you not change the curse of this disaster?
Amaze us by your mighty sovereignty.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must broken vows cut like a knife?
How can one wedded body break in pieces?
We all have failed at being pure and faithful;
only by grace we keep our solemn vows.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, did you abruptly take him home?
Could you not wait to summon him before you?
Why must we feel the sting of death’s old cruelty?
Come quickly, Lord, do not leave us alone.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Why, Lord, must any child of yours be hurt?
Does all our pain and sorrow somehow please you?
You are a God so jealous for our praises
hear this lament as prayer that fills the earth.
We plead: Repair the brokenness we share.
Chastise no more lest it destroy your creatures.
Hear this lament as intercessory prayer,
and speak your powerful word to make us hopeful.
Text Calvin Seerveld, I986. c 7 986, Calvin Seerveld. Used by permission.
There are many excellent resources on lament. Evangelicals can learn much from the writings and music of Michael Card who has two books on lament- both excellent- and is now doing teaching on the subject. Here are two mp3s of Card teaching on lament, and particularly how lament changes our thinking about God.
Some excellent articles on lament are available on the web. Check out this one at Reformed Worship. Then do a search of back issues under the search term “lament.”
One of the ways the church makes itself expendable, even intolerable, to some serious Jesus followers is the rejection and devaluing of the language of lament. We are human beings and our experience of God is sometimes one of sorrow and pain. Such an experience becomes part of our prayer, our affirmation of faith and our corporate witness.
Michael Horton says the evangelical church has decided no one can sing or play the blues in church.
That’s a very bad, and dishonest, decision. Singing the blues to God is honest, and the ailing evangelicalism around us is dying for lack of honesty.
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