"How long, O Lord, how long?"
"I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears." "Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?"
Or one of my favorites: " How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and everyday have sorrow in my heart..."
Until this past year, one facet of my faith that I was pretty unfamiliar with was lament. I don't think it was ever addressed in Bible study beyond: "take your sorrows to the Lord because Jesus wept, too." I had a hard time finding comfort in that and had less of an idea of what to actually DO with that information. But a year ago, I found myself in the deepest grief I had ever experienced- I wasn't sleeping, tears flowed all day long, my body ached from illness, but also from heartache. And I had no idea what to do with any of that, either.
One morning, I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, so I crawled out of bed, grabbed my Bible and a leather bound journal that I had purchased 7 years prior and hardly ever used. I sat on my couch, opened my Bible to the Psalms and just started to read. What struck me, in the dim light of an early day, was not just how raw and transparent David was about his own suffering but how he still ended most of his writings in praise. I felt a stirring inside of me and began to write his cries in my own journal. I would continue to write from my experience, and slowly, over the course of the entire year, the Lord, through David, taught me how to engage in lament.
And as weird as it sounds, I LOVE lament.
There is something so beautiful about being able to cry out and groan but still acknowledge His goodness and faithfulness. It's different than complaining- it's not a license to grumble, but it is a very real opportunity to say "ouch! This really hurts, God. I don't understand why this is happening or where You are in all of this, but I know YOU and I trust You because of who You are." That is so richly sweet!
Before I accidentally embarked on this discipline, my prayers felt a little disconnected- like taking a Christmas list to Santa. I had my things I wanted His help on. I made sure to thank Him often, but those were really the only two facets of our time together in prayer- thanks and requests. I felt uncomfortable groaning and crying out because I never wanted to seem ungrateful or like I was complaining. I've heard people say that we should share our heart with Him because He cares, but it always felt painfully redundant on the assumption that He knows all of our thoughts already. Is it really worth His time and my energy to ramble on about my thoughts and feelings? I couldn't bring myself to do it-I wanted to be respectful of His time and His sovereignty. It seems silly to put that in writing, but I do think that, while I would have said my prayer life was familiar and relational, it was lacking great depth. And as unoriginal as this epiphany is, He does know our thoughts, but just as we delight when our children share their hearts and thoughts with us, I imagine He does all the more.
So take your weariness to Him. If you don't know how to approach Him with that burden, I encourage you to begin reading the Psalms. Underline or write out David's groaning that resonates with your own heart. I cannot urge you enough to have a journal for this so that you can write out your own response to David's writings. Taking the time to put pen to paper helps to focus your mind and heart on the intention of that time. It also is so encouraging to be able to look back and see all that the Lord can do. I've seen His hand over our situation looking back over the last year and, at times, I've been blown away by what He has accomplished in a mere month. My journal has become a paper trail of His faithfullness to provide for my family and tend to my heart, personally. To say that this activity has been transformative in my life would be an understatement. For me, the act of being openly vulnerable with my weariness and anguish has pushed me further into the Father's arms. While my family may still be in the midst of our suffering, my heart also has been met with more peace than I couldn't have manufactured for myself.
"Be merciful to me, O lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief. My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak... But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, 'You are my God.'" Psalm 31:9-10 and 14
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