A prayer of lament
I think in 2020, we could probably all write our own prayer of lament. Some of us have lost more than others, but all of us have felt grief. Maybe grief more powerful than we have experienced before. One thing that has brought me some comfort this past year is knowing that we are all experiencing a collective grieving and we can reach out to one another in empathy and understanding, rather than be isolated from one another. One of my dearest friends has seen illness ravage her family. Another has seen job insecurity and loss. Friends have seen weddings, funerals, graduations, and long awaited reunions all canceled. Those of us with children near graduation have watched milestone after milestone be missed.
I’m reading a wonderful book right now and have found the author to feel more like a trusted friend than a stranger. I hope to do that in my writing as well. To draw readers in to the story in a way that feels familiar and connects on a heart level with elements of your own story.
As I was reading, the author shared a story about the power of lamenting to the Lord. Different than griping and complaining, lamenting is a powerful tool in the hands of the Lord. A lament leaves us with hope. We approach the throne of God with our pain, our heartbreak and our sorrow and we are reminded of who God is. Our pain does not diminish, but it is placed in the proper position behind God’s holiness and sovereignty.
I decided to attempt my own prayer of lament (in writing). I’m actually quite good at lamenting to the Lord regularly through prayer. I think that’s why the book of Psalms is my favorite book of the Bible. I love how David freely shares his deepest desires and his most significant hurts with God, trusting him to hold them and carry them. David always walks away reminded of God’s place and his own. These words came easily to me as I began to write. It seems they were quite near my heart. I share them with you, though deeply personal, to give you a template for pouring out your heart to the Lord. What I found as I wrote was that God was right there, reminding me of truth as quickly as I could pour out my grief. I pray he does the same for you, if you try this exercise.
A prayer of lament
For the coronavirus and a year of unmet expectationsSenior year. All the memories of the last 12 years of schooling would culminate in this milestone year. Senior pictures would be taken, a year of intentionally marking the “lasts” – last football game, last classes, last dance, last hang with friends. God, years ago you changed our course. We followed Jesus instead of the path before us, and all the years began to look different than expected. Then a brief return home, which brought the familiar closer than it had been in years. Until the virus swept in. In whispers at first, a distant problem in a faraway land. Ever closer until it was in our neighborhoods. Schools shut down. Everything was canceled. The familiar grief and loneliness that our family had known of “missing out” was now felt by everyone. The collective grief has been heavy. Lives have been lost, some due to Covid, others to suicide and other deaths during an already weighty time. Sadness is covering our land. God, we pray that you would cover us with your joy. Be our ever-present help in times of trouble. God, we grieve what was lost, both real and imagined. We grieve the dreams and desires we had for this year. We grieve the lack of certainty we feel and the recognition that nothing is promised. You have told us we would have trials in this world. We feel this truth as global citizens now, Lord. We all see that this world will have trials. We pray that during this time you would also reveal your truth to more and more people. We take heart, Lord, knowing you have overcome this world. The things that distract and disorient us now Lord, will one day make sense. Personally, I grieve the loss of the moments I desired to have with Bekah. I grieve the “lasts” I longed to have with her before sending her to college. I know that you love her more than I do, and you love me more than I know. I know that you are collecting my tears in a bottle and recording my sorrows. The quiet tears I shed on long walks or into my pillow at night, Lord. You see them all. You will not forget or forsake me. You see me. Lord, take my grief and use it. Use it to serve others, use it to shine a light on the suffering of others and help me enter into their pain in a fresh way. Use it to make me appreciate the moments we do get to celebrate the “lasts” with our precious girl. And rescue us Lord, from the spirit of fear and uncertainty that is sweeping the world. Calm anxious hearts, Lord. Protect your people. Let this plague pass over the land never to return. God we trust you. With this virus. With the recent election. With our dreams and desires. With our lives. Amen
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