Lament as Christian Grief
When we examine grief within the scope of the five stages that are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, we tend to find that these “stages” are more like observable potential responses to grief. That is to say that often times we find grief to be a place where in we will likely experience these five responses in some shape or form, in some order that may well be unpredictable. But here is an important insight that lies within the stages; the stages of grief are not a cure for grief, nor do they always lead us successfully to the final stage of acceptance. Yes it is true, we will likely experience the responses of denial and anger and bargaining and depression as we grieve that which we have lost, however these responses do not form for us a pathway to healing, resolution or reconciliation. No the stages are more like observations of how the human heart responds to grief, not a solution for the grief. This truth in turn ultimately leads us to the question, what then should we do in times of grief? The answer is found in an often avoided topic and unappreciated word we call lament.
In the year 586 BCE, the Babylonian Empire led by King Nebuchadnezzar destroyed and ransacked the city of Jerusalem, an event which the prophet Jeremiah had forewarned God’s people about. In reflection of the aftermath of the ruins of the city of Jerusalem, we have the book of lamentations often attributed to Jeremiah as the author. In chapter three of the book of lamentations the author shares of a particularly deep and painful grief over the pain and suffering he has experienced in watching this destruction take place. The author records:
1 I am the man who has seen affliction
under the rod of his wrath;
2 he has driven and brought me
into darkness without any light;
3 surely against me he turns his hand
again and again the whole day long.
4 He has made my flesh and my skin waste away;
he has broken my bones;
5 he has besieged and enveloped me
with bitterness and tribulation;
6 he has made me dwell in darkness
like the dead of long ago.
I wonder as you read these words, can you feel the weight of grief in the authors descriptions? The author describes his flesh and skin wasting away, he would later go on in this chapter to also state, “He is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in hiding” (Lam. 3:10), and “He drove into my kidneys the arrows of his quiver” (Lam. 3:13), and “He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes” (Lam. 3:16). For approximately twenty verses the author describes pain, misery, sadness, and overall…suffering. Grief often is suffering after all. But the point here is this, is all we had was grief we would truly be lost. If all we had were these heavy feelings of depression and hopelessness, we would be left without direction and hope. But something changes in Lamentations chapter 3 around verse 21:
21 But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;[b]
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
This is quite a transition from the twenty verses prior, to move from anguish to hope, to move from depression to peace, to move from suffering to life. The transition we see here is, in my opinion, the critical difference between grief and lament. “To grieve is human,” writes pastor and author Mark Vroegop in his work Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, “to lament is Christian".” When we examine grief we see that it is the hearts cry to express the pain of loss and the wounds of suffering. But that expression that is grief leaves little direction forward except to continue on with the hope that we might wander our way out of the woods. Lament, on the other hand, brings hope and direction by placing out grief directly into the hands of the one who spoke life itself into existence. To lament is to take the pain of grief, the loneliness of loss, and the disorientation of suffering and bring it before the throne of the one who created us, knows us, loves us, and cares for us. To bring our grief before the Lord is to find hope and peace even in the midst of uncertain circumstances or painful suffering. I would argue that there is no better place to bring such pain, to bring such hurt and to bring such a grief, then into the presence and into the capable hands of the one who is able to raise the dead, heal the incurable, and forgive the unforgivable.
My encouragement in this is simple and yet profoundly important. Whatever you are walking through today, whatever you are grieving, whatever hurts you carry, whatever wounds are still fresh in your heart and mind, bring them before the God of all creation. Bring them to the one who knows you intimately, who loves you perfectly, and who desires to carry your pain and hurt. Let your heart turn from grief to hope, as you call to mind and have hope, that the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases and his mercies are new every morning.
