A place of lament

This week I have the privilege to be away with St Mellitus theological college, attending lectures on Foundations of Worship and Preaching. In one of our college times of worship, something that glaringly stood out for me was a sermon about the place of lament in life. Turning to the psalms, and particularly Psalm 88, we heard about how this song was sung in public worship. The thought of public lament is a strange one to me, but also one of comfort. The vulnerability to show grief in the presence of others can be a powerful conduit of healing and a space where deep wounds can become scars.

Just before coming away with college, I was making toffee apples with my daughter and some of the 150 degree hot toffee spilt onto my finger. Needless to say, a huge blister appeared and still remains while the wounded skin goes through the process of healing. The same with lament. We lament because of loss and because of pain and the Lord does not expect that we can cry once and then be healed. Or talk about it once and be healed. He honours our grief and the time needed for healing. In Psalm 88 we notice that it doesn’t end in a neatly packaged box tied up with a lovely bow! It ends with the psalmist expressing his deepest, most raw, vulnerably honest grief. We are allowed to have the same and God receives it as worship. What an incredible thing. God, who is worthy of all our praise and adoration, receives our honesty as worship because he honours and highly values our truth.

A couple of nights after hearing about the place of lament in worship we took part in a healing service. At the beginning of the service the whole college of around 400 people seemed to be lost in worship of Jesus together. He took us deep into his wonderful presence and it was glorious. And then, for many of us, his Holy Spirit began to touch on some wounded places and we were able to sit in lament together. Sitting next to one of my good friends here, we both wept. And the vulnerability of grief in the presence of another brought a measure of healing which is hard to put into words. The healing process continues. God is not prone to hurry. We are now both held, in our friendship and in our God.

There are places of pain and grief within our church family and there is both space and place for lament. Let’s be people who sit with each other in the vulnerability of our grief and let’s be held, by each other and by our God.

Psalm 88^[a]

A song. A psalm of the Sons of Korah. For the director of music. According to mahalath leannoth.^[b] A maskil^[c] of Heman the Ezrahite.

¹ Lord, you are the God who saves me;     day and night I cry out to you. ² May my prayer come before you;     turn your ear to my cry.

³ I am overwhelmed with troubles     and my life draws near to death. ⁴ I am counted among those who go down to the pit;     I am like one without strength. ⁵ I am set apart with the dead,     like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more,     who are cut off from your care.

¹³ But I cry to you for help, Lord;     in the morning my prayer comes before you. ¹⁴ Why, Lord, do you reject me     and hide your face from me?

¹⁵ From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;     I have borne your terrors and am in despair. ¹⁶ Your wrath has swept over me;     your terrors have destroyed me. ¹⁷ All day long they surround me like a flood;     they have completely engulfed me. ¹⁸ You have taken from me friend and neighbor—     darkness is my closest friend.