Shar Walker
When life gets hard, I find myself turning to slave narratives and Negro spirituals and poetry. That, and the book of Psalms.
The Negro spirituals remind me I come from a long line of men and women who have endured horrific seasons of excruciation that seemed eternal. These songs and poetry are evidence of my ancestors’ hope and faith that God heard them, even when it felt like their suffering had no end—even when it seemed like God was silent. It’s comforting reading and singing about the perseverance of others.
The Psalms remind me that my spiritual lineage goes back even farther to God’s people who are no strangers to lament (Ps. 6:6; 13:1–4; 102:1–11). From wilderness wanderings to prosperity to conquest to exile, the Israelites knew suffering as a close—and often unwanted—confidant.
THE POWER OF LAMENT
When we feel helpless, out of control, or scared, some of us are tempted to go into action mode. We do everything we can to ensure our suffering is minimized with little collateral damage.
But what if our first response was to sit in our mess and pray to God? What if, instead of trying to fix this, we were honest to God how we’re doing and what we’re feeling. What if we simply lamented?
Lament is crying out to God with no immediate hope of relief. Or as Canadian writer Jen Pollock Michel describes lament in Surprised by Paradox:
In language that seems hardly admissible in God’s throne room, as men and women pray to God, they try making faithful sense of the mystery of their suffering—and the love of God in the worst of circumstances. Lament, with its clear-eyed appraisal of suffering alongside its commitment to finding audience with God, is a paradoxical practice of faith.
In America, where we have come to expect prosperity, lament likely seems strange to many of us. Foreign, even. Biblically, there is a powerful history of lament—in the wilderness, throughout Psalms, during the exile.
As our hands crack from the ever-growing stain of soap and hand sanitizer and we breathe recycled air through masks, the current season of pandemic presents the joyous opportunity to have our faith strengthened through this foreign, but ancient, form of prayer.
REMEMBER GOD’S TRACK RECORD—IT’S GOOD
We’re forgetful beings. We’re prone to absent-mindedness. When life is good we tend to feel like we don’t need God.
We’re equally prone to forget God’s track record of faithfulness when things are bad because grief easily overwhelms us to the point where we can only see the despair of the moment. Looking forward—to the ever-growing ambiguity of the future—only causes more anxiety. The stress of what is can cloud our memory of what was. Sadness can blur our recollection of how God has shown up in the past.
In Psalm 44—a corporate psalm of lament—the psalmist begins by reminding readers of God’s goodness, a truth that had been passed down for generations. Truth celebrated by the covenant community. “God, we have heard with our ears—our ancestors have told us—the work you accomplished in their days, in days long ago” (Ps. 44:1).
We worship the same God as our spiritual ancestors. When we read stories that are thousands of years old and we hear the miraculous ways God showed up for his people, we can easily assume a “that was then, this is now” mentality. And yes, in some exegetical circumstances, this is true. Yet he’s still the same God. When moments come that make it hard to see God in our present times, we must not forget to look back. In her book, Michel goes on observing:
Lament was carried on in these acts of remembering. Whenever it became difficult to see God in the present, these ancient men and women conjured up scenes from the past. They let their story part the clouds of divine obscurity and tell them something about God’s nature.
Israel told and retold the story of their deliverance. They recalled and passed on to generations the narrative of God’s faithfulness despite their failures. Perhaps, in this season you need to be reminded of the Lord’s character. Remind your church how God has provided for you and been near to you in past seasons of suffering. As a church, remember and thank the Lord for the previous seasons of corporate trials you have endured.
DESCRIBE YOUR FRUSTRATION TO GOD IN DETAIL—HE CAN HANDLE IT
“Have you been honest with God about your disappointment?” I was shocked by the question from a trusted friend. I was more surprised that my answer was “no”.
Prepping and planning comes naturally to me in the face of unexpected change—prayer doesn’t. Honestly, I’d vented in my head and to my husband a bit, but I didn’t do much beyond that. There were people who have it much worse, so why complain about my small issues from the stresses of working from home with an infant?
But God doesn’t keep score when listening to our prayers. When we’ve completed our lament, he doesn’t follow up with, “Well, that person has it way worse so you should be grateful.” His ever-listening attentiveness is saying, “Tell me more.”
In Psalm 44:9-16, the psalmist details Israel’s national distress: “You hand us over to be eaten like sheep and scatter us among the nations” (Ps. 44:11).
Humiliation, disgrace, and shame are upon them as an unwanted covering. They felt the weight of all this humiliation, disgrace, and shame. The psalmist holds nothing back in his outpouring to the Father. Telling God of the present disaster and distress opens up an opportunity for one to recognize his merciful response. Again, Michel is so helpful here:
There is every indication that God’s mercy is as reliable for suffering that is banal as for suffering that is big. And this is one of the great mysteries of divine love, that I need make no defense for the worthiness of my trouble and the rightfulness of my need.
Of course, there are times we should be more grateful, but biblical lament invites us into an honest and vulnerable conversation with the Lord, no matter how seemingly big or small our problems.
PLEAD TO GOD LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT—BECAUSE IT DOES
Lament can feel like we’re praying to an empty room. We pour out our hearts to God, and it feels like he is silent. The psalmist exclaims, “Wake up, LORD! Why are you sleeping? Get up! Don’t reject us forever! . . . Rise up! Help us! Redeem us because of your faithful love” (Ps. 44:23, 26).
Over and over the psalmist comes back to the Lord and makes his pleas known boldly and clearly. In fact, his prayers of lament and his pleas to God are evidence of his faith.
Our faith in God likewise is strengthened through persistent prayer. After all, we keep returning to the throne room of grace because we believe God is still with us and hears us amid our trials. As soon as we forget this, our suffering appears unbearable.
At times, our life is full of tear-stained pleas to God. We come back, again and again and again, through prayer. We call out knowing he has a proven track record, realizing he can handle all our frustrations. We can cry out to him in honest petition.
He’s a God who hears, and he is a God who sees. He has heard the cries of our spiritual ancestors. Let’s lament knowing he hears our tear-stained pleas as well.
SharDavia “Shar” Walker lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband and son. She serves as the Senior Writer for the North American Mission Board (NAMB). Shar is a writer and a speaker and is currently pursuing an M.A. in Christian Studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. You can find more of her work at www.sharwalker.com.
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