The Gift of Lament

Last week I wrote about the little deaths we all endure, and how important it is that we face them head on, trusting in the resurrection which is sure to come. The problem with this is that we sometimes take faith to mean that we shouldn’t grieve, express doubts or acknowledge our pain. We seem to think that the truly faithful rise above these dark emotions and go through suffering with a blissful smile. I’m not sure where we got this picture from, but it wasn’t from the Scriptures.

In the Bible we discover a lot of grief and suffering, and often it is the most faithful, devoted people - the prophets and apostles - who face the worst of life. We might expect them to handle this calmly and gracefully, but instead what we find is a liberating honesty. These men and women of faith had no problem expressing their raw anger at God, their complaints and questions, their doubts and fears.

Take Jeremiah as an example. When faced with persecution for his message, he tries to keep silent, but finds that he can’t do it - which means that all he can expect is more persecution. He feels angry that he wasn’t told that it would be like this, and so he complains to God in Jeremiah 20:7-9, essentially calling God a liar! But God doesn’t strike him with lightning. Rather, Jeremiah’s faith remains strong, and he goes on to have one of the longest and most difficult ministries of any prophet.

Lament is a healing practice. Here the realities of our lives and the realities of our faith come together, and this always leads to a renewed faith. There are four basic parts to any true lament. First, a complaint is laid against God, expressing the details of the suffering being experienced. Second, God’s promises and previous gracious acts are remembered and offered to God as both the basis for the complaint (because God doesn’t appear to be doing what God promised) and the basis for hope that God will intervene. Third, a request is spoken for God to act on behalf of the suffering one and bring healing, liberation and comfort. Finally, a commitment is made to continue to trust, to hope and to praise God, no matter what the outcome may be.

It is unfortunate that worship has all too often been seen as nothing other than celebration. Joy and inspiration are emphasised and any signs of grief, doubt, pain or fear are to be hidden or left outside. The result of this is that worshippers are forced into a double-life in which their real feelings and experiences are either ignored or concealed. We get good at pretending that we are “blessed” on Sundays, and we cling to our faith with white-knuckles, hoping our grief won’t overwhelm and betray us - which it inevitably does.

Perhaps both we and our churches would be healthier if we just learned to lament more - to express our grief, to make our complaints against God, and to commit to faith even in the dark times. We all face both the little deaths and the big ones, and to try and deal with grief without the gift of lament is to rob ourselves of both healing and comfort. But, if we trust God enough to be honest about our pain, we will find the comfort we seek, and the light of hope will continue to shine in our hearts.

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.
Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

The Little Deaths

Here in South Africa winter is in full swing. We are just approaching the coldest part of our year (which, granted, is not nearly as cold as other parts of the globe), and the world around us is dormant. Trees are bare, and the whole countryside is tinged with brown. The world as I know it has entered a little death.

In ages past winter was a frightening time of year. Resources were scarce, food was hard to come by, and illness frequently led to real death. The ‘little death’ of winter was a time when life was under threat, and it took every bit of faith to believe that the world would come alive again. But, come alive it did - as it always does. Although I am fortunate enough to live in a time when the fears of winter are small and insignificant, and although I enjoy the winter months in Africa, I still long for the outbreak of new life - the resurrection - that awaits the Spring. The world is in a little death, but the resurrection is not far off.

This cycle of death and resurrection is built into the universe, and it is a gracious, God-given reminder of a fundamental principle of our living. Jesus put it this way: “People who try to save their lives will lose them, and those who lose their lives will save them.” (Luke 17:33). It’s always tempting to hold on, white-knuckled, to the things we value, to the moments of joy and celebration. But, inevitably, if we try to do this, we simply lose both the thing we are trying to save, and our ability to really live.

As we see the signs of a ‘winter’ approaching our lives, whether it’s a time of suffering, the loss of something or someone of value, or some sacrifice we know we must make, it is all too common for us to try and build protective walls around us to keep the little deaths at bay. But, Jesus’ words are a comfort and a challenge. Instead of seeking to save our lives, we must lose them - willingly embrace the little death, and enter into its pain. It sounds completely ridiculous, to our pain-avoidant minds, but it is in this losing - this dying - that we find life. Like the earth that needs the winter in order to nurture new life and growth, we need the little deaths, the times of suffering and sacrifice, in order to find abundant, vibrant, deep, meaningful life. So, in whatever little death you may be facing, you may want to consider what it would mean for you stop trying to save your life, and to surrender yourself to the loss.

The practice of worship is a profound gift to those who face a little death. Each week we are given the comfort of a community which can share our grief and sustain us through the pain. Each week, we are invited into the life of faith - of placing our lives and well-being into the hands of God. And each week, we are reminded that resurrection is alive and real among us, that resurrection is always at work where there is death, and that as we lose our lives, we also find them. And, then as we leave the sanctuary, we are encouraged to live out our resurrection faith in every moment and every situation.

So, if you’re facing a winter - a little death - in your life, perhaps now is the time to find your way to a church and to allow worship to give you the gift of faith, the gift of resurrection and the gift of new life. You may not see it right away, but if you continue to open yourself to it, life will emerge again, in all of its colourful glory.

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.
Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

Sabbath

I don’t know when we began to believe that being busy was better than resting, that busy people are somehow more important, and that being exhausted was somehow noble. I suspect it goes back to a thing called the “Protestant Work Ethic” which proclaimed, among other things, that “the devil finds work for idle hands”. It seems that our world has become obsessed with busy-ness, with working long hours and with not resting enough. We fill our time with all sorts of stuff to do, afraid that we might end up being bored if we don’t, and we live with a constant soundtrack of noise, because we can no longer stand the silence. Try asking people to observe a whole minute of silence next time you’re in church and see how that goes down!

Perhaps I’m preaching only to myself, but I don’t think so. I see the stress on faces as I walk down the street. I read the statistics that show that our relationships are breaking under the strain. I can still remember the days when shops closed at one o’clock on Saturdays and were not open on Sundays at all, so I can’t help but see the difference now that shopping is almost 24/7!

I know that, for many of us, the pace at which we live is not our choice. We work for bosses in an economy that gives them all the power. If we won’t work the hours, they’ll just find someone else who will. But, even in the face of this reality, we need to hear the Bible’s call to Sabbath - which is really just a call to rest. If there is anything that can help us to hear and respond to this call, it’s worship. What worries me, though, is that so often our worship feels no different. We cram as much into the time as we can. We’re driven to grow the church numerically and financially. We want to make sure we’re in touch with the latest “cutting-edge” technology, or style, or strategy, and it all becomes just as much of a treadmill as any other organisation on any other day of the week.

So, here’s an idea. What if we slowed down a bit? What if we began to allow our worship to follow the rhythms of Sabbath - times of work and intensity, but also times of silence and rest? What would happen if we began to put our energy into healing and strengthening and feeding the souls of those who worship with us, and left the “growth” to God? What if we stopped trying to be “impressive” and just worked smarter at being Church?

What would this mean for us? It might mean that we plan and prepare worship with the Gospel as our main focus, and God’s glory as our main desire. It might mean that we would learn that the important thing is that we just show up - just observing the Sabbath changes us, even though we may not always see it. It might mean that we let ourselves off the hook a bit and allow worship to be a time, not of striving, but of resting in God’s grace, soaking in God’s Spirit, and just enjoying loving and being loved by God.

There is so much more I could say about this, but I’m off on holiday in a couple of days, so it’s time to slow down, to stop, and to rest.

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.
Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.