Lament, Hope and an Invitation from God
Horror, tears, anger, frustration, fear—my emotions tumble all over each other. Eighteen people--eight in Atlanta, including six Asian women, and 10 in Boulder, random shoppers and a police officer, father of seven—murdered.
And yesterday a friend of mine was yelled at to “go back where you came from.”
Whether purposeless killing or personal threats, terrorism or trafficking, our lives feel unsafe.
How does this happen? Why does this happen? What can I do? What can we do?
We in Orlando were asking the same questions five years ago when 49 people were killed in a terrorist shooting at the Pulse Night Club. A week after the shooting, some of us gathered to lament and pray. Following is some of what I wrote about our evening together:
We gathered, about 50 of us, for four hours on Friday night. It was a monthly Friday Night of Prayer. Only this was not a usual gathering. Death and sadness, anger and grief, fear and frustration called for lament…with hope.
Learning to Lament
First we worshiped. A friend with his guitar led us as we sang, preparing our hearts.
For many from a western culture, lament is not a common practice. Bible scholar Kathleen O’Connor helped us with this quote about the Book of Lamentations: “Lamentations provides a bottle for the tears of the world.”
When we lament we take our tears and our fears to God. We let Him know what we think and how we feel about the events of our lives. And we appeal to God to act justly and demonstrate his faithfulness.
Many of the psalms are songs of lament, most of which follow a similar approach to God: a complaint, a request and, usually, an expression of trust. The concerns could be personal needs, or threats from enemies, or disappointment with God’s actions or inactions.
We read through Psalm 80, joining the psalmist in his despair at the brokenness of Jerusalem, crying out “How long, Lord God Almighty?” And then: “Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved.”
We sought to understand that lament expresses our desire, our efforts to enter into the pain and loss and grief of others as well as our own. We thought of those who have lost loved ones, who are oppressed, who don’t receive justice….
And we expressed our laments—for our own sin, for our own city, for the hatred and killing and strife and prejudice in our nation, and for the terror and horror and poverty and injustice and oh, the fear.
We would personally continue to grieve with those who lost loved loves, who would always have those tumbling emotions haunting them, releasing tears, lamenting the injustice.
A Call to Hope
Yet we felt God calling us to hope—for newness for ourselves, our city, our nation, our world. So we sang, moving into praise and adoration, even as King David, our great model for lament, did.
To turn to rejoicing and hope, we joined the children of Israel when the prophet Isaiah assured them of new life as the Lord released them from captivity in Babylon and led them back to the Promised Land.
Beginning in Isaiah 61, we thrilled to these words spoken to Israel, but made ours as well because our Lord used them to announce the beginning of His ministry:
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” (Isaiah 61:1-3)
The prophet gave amazing encouragements: renew the ruined cities; instead of shame and disgrace, a double portion; everlasting joy and an everlasting covenant; blessed by the Lord; clothed with garments of salvation and robes of righteousness; praise springing up before all nations.
Certainly joy arrives and hope appears.
But there is more. Isaiah said in chapter 61 that God’s people would be the display of his splendor—they—God’s children, and—we—God’s children, show His splendor to all creation. He continues in chapter 62: “…you will be a crown of splendor in the Lord’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your Lord….I will take delight in you….”
From the shame of idolatry and the sin of pride and the offense of immorality and the guilt of murder….our God redeems and forgives and restores—and delights in us.
Then in 62:6-7, we receive an admonition and an invitation: “You who call on the Lord, give yourself no rest, and give him no rest till he establishes Jerusalem and makes her the praise of the earth.
Do you see that?
THE ADMONITION:
When you cry out to the Lord, in lament, in desperation, in intercession, in need, in pain, don’t stop. Give yourself no rest. Keep praying, asking, beseeching.
Which we did, throughout the evening. We cried out for the pain and suffering and loss and captivity of people all over the world. We cried against the evil we see all around. We asked our God to set people free, to open blind eyes and soften hard hearts. To bring salvation and healing and hope to a desperate world.
AND THE INVITATION:
“Give God no rest.” He asks us to keep asking Him, to keep seeking, to keep knocking! Don’t quit. He is a God who sees, who hears, who answers. We won’t wear Him out.
Then this: “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your Savior comes! See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him.’
“They will be called the Holy People, the Redeemed of the Lord; and you will be called Sought After, the City No Longer Deserted.”
May we be the splendor of the Lord, to reflect His offered redemption, to live out His love and compassion. May we be part of the mighty throng on our knees in repentance, beseeching our God to pour out His Spirit in mercy and justice for every person, nation, tribe, and people.
What about you? What is your lament? Where is your hope?
c2021 Judy Douglass