An Invitation to Lament

What is happening in the world? It seems to be falling apart. Mankind killing mankind. Lies. Deceit. Harshness. Hypocrisy. Deception. Fear mongering. Judgment. Division. Selfish gain. Did I miss anything?

Like you, I'm sure, I keep an eye on the current events around the world each day. The powerful power- hungry preying on those trusting, believing, hoping their best interest is at stake. The senseless, brutal slaughter of the innocent in the wake of evil. 

None of it is new news. It's been happening since man was created. This doesn't comfort. The problem is that it's occurring on our watch, and we don't know what to do so far away. And if we're honest, we fear it will come near and disrupt our carefully crafted peaceful lives.

Growing up in a free country breeds entitlement. I've seen it rear its ugly head in my heart in living color in recent days. I confessed to my husband (and to God) just last week that I am a true American with all the prideful entitlements intact. 

When authority overreaches and tries to take away a freedom, my back arches and my neck cranes and I say, "Well, we're not going to put up with that." If another country tried to invade and take us captive, well, we can't imagine that here in America. We simply can't accept that as a possible reality.

While scrolling through Instagram yesterday, I happened upon a post that I could have written - but not nearly as well - so I'm going to share it in the author's words.

"I love the season of Lent. I think this is a relatively new development; in previous years, I wonder if I was distracted - perhaps in some way rightfully - by the fasting, the "giving up" of something; the sugar, the social media, the soda.

These days, I am more grateful for the chance to lament, so relieved to be guaranteed a season in which I can sit and quietly grieve, in which I can acknowledge without reproach that things are not alright here. We are not okay.

What a relief it is to get to say that aloud, in a chorus alongside the rest of the global church. During our Ash Wednesday service last week, the priest looked at us gently, talking about his rended heart, about what he's witnessed the last two years. "We've behaved badly," he said, and oh, what a balm that truth was to my soul.

A quiet, somber, whispered alleluia for the acknowledgment that we have not handled things well. We are not okay. The world is not as it should be, and we continue to behave badly. But an alleluia, too, for the hope that there is Someone working diligently, powerfully to make things right, to turn our sins into seeds of something better.

Thanks be to God for lament, for repentance, for the chance to try again to make things right with each new day. Thanks be to God for Lent, which comes along right when I seem to need it the very most."*

I felt like crying after reading that honest assessment of the result of corporate sin. I think and talk enough about my personal individual sin, not daring to discuss yours - that's between you and God. But collective, communal, shared sin? Owning the togetherness of it? It's not really in our daily conversation.

Can any of us look back over the last few years and these current days and think we've nailed it? That we don't have something we got wrong to confess as sin? I admit I'm at the front of the line. These crises we've been assaulted with bring out the best and worst in us, for sure.

I have a saying I smirk out regularly that always draws a laugh: "It's not that I have to be right (all the time), it's just that I happen to be." What a joke indeed.

Every morning I sit in our little homemade library by an artificial fire and candle that provides the crackle. I read my Bible, I pray, I think, I practice stillness in God's presence. It's usually a comfortable, joyous time investing in my relationship with God. But since last week, I've purposefully paid more attention to the idea of lament. It's uncomfortable, unsettling, even painful.

Lament defined by the dictionary is: to feel or express grief, sorrow or regret; to mourn deeply for or over. That is what we need.

What a gift if you think about it. To feel and mourn deeply over the suffering and the sin far away from us as well as that in our own backyard. It really is a collective problem. We're all in this together. I do believe it's valuable to sit in it awhile and let lament do its work within.

Of course, we don't stay there for long because we have hope - the rest of the story of our lament and our Lent focus - Jesus and the Gospel of God - the historical event of Jesus, God's sinless, perfect Son, coming to earth as a man to pay the price with his life, suffering and death for our sins fulfilled and available.

Gospel means "good news". This was the good news of great joy the angels sang about in the shepherd fields. All that is needed for us to have a relationship with God is to confess and turn from our sin and put trust in Jesus.

This is what Lent and Easter are all about. Remembering Jesus' fulfilling God's eternal plan to include us in His family if we respond to Him in faith. Jesus' death isn't the whole story though, also His resurrection back to life - the life He is living today!

These days can be difficult to navigate, and the path seems to be getting darker as we gaze into the future. It is right to take the time to lament, to grieve, to feel sorrow and regret, to mourn deeply for our sins and the sins of others.

Lent gives us that annual invitation to lament. And while we do this, the days are marching toward a crescendo of wonder - the most exciting sacred holiday of them all - Easter morning. Look up, friend, it's coming and with it new life for all who believe.

*Annie B. Jones

One final thing, I have a little something for you today. Our family is endeavoring to compile an Easter playlist - each one contributing their faves. I started last week with this song by Andrew Peterson. I won't comment on it in too many words (even though I realllllly want to), just listen. He gets the process of awareness to lament to hope and we need this.

Remember Me

Never Miss A Good Party

Speaking of sacred holidays (ahem, last post), did you know God likes to party? Have you considered that He actually instructed His people to celebrate - including feasting? As in, a command if ignored by those living in Old Testament times, could lead to penalty of excommunication or death? 

It's true. Hold that thought.

A few years ago, during one of my annual trips through the Bible cover to cover, a noticeable theme emerged. (This usually happens, by the way, which is so much fun to discover! I highly recommend.) The pattern started with Abraham back in the first book, Genesis. 

As he endeavored to follow God's instruction to leave his people "and go to the land I'll show you", he made many stops along the journey. He would hold up the whole caravan, build an altar and worship. I mean, many, many times. 

It was so repetitive it seems like he halted every few miles and they were on a looooong journey. One (type A-let's-make-the-best-time kind of person) might think he was running a bit behind. 

In reality, Abraham paused every time God did something remarkable. He couldn't help himself! He had to drop everything and respond.

This theme continues throughout the narrative of the Bible.

Some say Numbers is a boring book, but I beg to differ. There is some good stuff in there - take this passage for example. We pick up in chapter 9 when God's people - the Israelites - were in the desert of Sinai preparing to celebrate their second Passover (the commemoration of God miraculously rescuing them from slavery in Egypt).

As they prepared, the Lord spoke to Moses with some instructions. What stood out to me was in verse 13:

But if anyone who is clean and is not on a journey fails to keep the Passover, that person shall be cut off from his people because he did not bring the Lord's offering at its appointed time; that man shall bear his sin.

We can easily surmise that celebrating big things God has done in the past for His people matters to Him. A skeptic might argue, "What kind of God demands worship? What an ego trip!"

I don't think that's what is happening here. These celebrations are not for Him, they are for us. He knows we are fickle and forgetful and need to be reminded of His goodness. Remembering His faithfulness, His mighty power and outstretched arm, His tireless forgiveness, His generous care and provision, His never-ending, unstoppable love for the people He longs to call His own. This strengthens us for the journey called our lives.

THAT's what the sacred holidays are for! They are God's gifts to us, a sometimes weary, embattled group of followers, caught up in the busyness of our daily responsibilities. Deliberately spaced throughout our calendar year meant to bolster our faith; to draw our eyes and hearts back to His greatness. Included are days of feasting together, singing together, shouting for joy that they get to be in relationship with the one true God. That sounds like fun!

God knows this and in His mercy (notice the absence of condemnation), He leaves no room for excuses. What if someone is out of town or unprepared? See verses 9 -11:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Speak to the people of Israel, saying, if any one of you or of your descendants is unclean...or is on a long journey he shall still keep the Passover to the Lord. In the second month on the fourteenth day at twilight they shall keep it."

Raincheck. He gave them a six-week window. 

I love this about our Father. He means to delight us. He doesn't want us to miss out. He knows this type of commemorating is actually something we need. It's a recognition for when we fall into the temptation of feeling like everything depends on us (as if we actually keep the world and all our people in it spinning). Consider this a respite, an acknowledgement, that oh yeah God, this is all on You. You made the promises to run the world and take care of your children. You keep the promises. It's not on us! Can I get an amen?

As each festivity approaches, I imagine Jesus in front of me, coaxing me to look back at the history of the Bible and the memories from my own personal experiences since He rescued me from my slavery to sin and self. I stop. (Why is that the hardest thing?) I smile. He smiles. I thank Him. I probably cry for the great mercy I've been shown. I rejoice. Now I, too, want to party!

Then He dares me to follow Him forward in expectation that there will be more. Yes - there will be more. God hasn't stopped working or revealing Himself or rescuing or delighting. We can be as sure of this as we are of what has happened thus far. Remember, worship, anticipate what's next. This is my kind of party!

A solid takeaway is to notice in my own life what God has done, is doing and stop everything to praise Him. And do it often. 

Confession. It always bothers me when I hear some of God's children say, "Yeah, I don't really get into Easter or Christmas."

Here's the thing. Opting out of God's sacred celebrations and remembrances - in group settings with other Jesus followers - says a lot about our heart.

Will God isolate us or strike us dead for not partaking? Probably not. Those Old Testament requirements were fulfilled with Jesus' death and resurrection. 

But make no mistake, if we ignore the party invitation, we will be the ones missing out on blessings He wants to give us. I, for one, am taking no chances on that. I need all the delight and persuasion I can get. Why wouldn't I draw near to the One who wants to give it? 

Our brother Abraham started this parade of celebrating decades before the Israelites joined in with their various feasts and festivals and now it's our turn to take up our place in the rhythm of important God-honoring holidays.

Pssst...did I mention Lent starts tomorrow (see previous post for more on that)? Don't opt out. Because Easter follows on April 17 - I'll have my party hat ready.

P.S. Did you know you can subscribe to this blog? Scroll back up to the box on the right. And feel free to share with your people. I'd love to meet them.