Perhaps it is time to recover the lost art of lament.
The amount of anxiety and grief in the world right now is palpable. The relational, emotional and financial fallout from this crisis will echo for years to come. For most, there is no Plan B play-book for most.
So what of spirituality? Well, some may call me a sadist or deranged but I believe that most of us are positioned right now for the kind of transformation that no conference, sermon, book or therapy can give (although they may assist). But, to the super-positive God-is-in-control well-crafted fake-mask-wearing folks out there, here’s the catch, you must give way to the disappointment, the grief, the frustration, and learn the lost art of lamenting.
Sound a little counter culture?? Yep, it is… now anyway. You know, nearly half of the Psalms in our common Christian bible are songs of lament. Poems recited in dark places where truth is illuminated, and vindication is found.
Yet today, we seldom hear a song or sing of how God disappointed us and has disappeared at the time we needed the most help. Yes, in most modern version of Christianity, it’s safe to say we’ve done a shit job of admitting when things really shit. [ In fact, some of you probably need to say ‘shit’ a bit more. ? (Ph3:8) ] Go and read many of the Psalms, including Psalm 22, they all start with a brutally honest heart, e.g. “My God. My God. Why have you forsaken me.”
If we dare to be honest, most of us can pinpoint the most spiritually transformative moments in our lives to a season of loss, tragedy and disappointment. It’s HOW IT WORKS! God speaks to us IN the desert. We find and fight our selves in desert seasons. (Even the Hebrew word for desert ‘Midbar’ has deep nuance of God speaking to us as we are drawn out.)
Friends, there is treasure to be found in this season. I’m no hero or premium example but I can say, having gone through loss, bankruptcy, burnout, betrayal and a whole lot of shit, it wasn’t until I allowed myself to enter the darkness before me, instead of wasting time trying to light religious lamps of denial, that I discovered a co-suffering nail-scarred lover in the desert. I discovered a tribe of terribly authentic desert dwellers I call some of my closest friends.