The Health Hidden in Laments

 

The Seige and Destruction of Jerusalem, a painting by Roberts

A lament comes from the depth of one's soul. It reaches down into the common memories of a group of people, and there comes a painful cry. Mourning, with multiple levels and reflecting hundreds of memories, rises to the surface. 

I think of the lament at the death of King Saul and David's best friend, Jonathan. Both Saul and Jonathan were defeated in a battle. That terrible event marked the end of King Saul's life and the beginning of David's rule.

More poignantly, Jeremiah's lament comes to mind. I never get tired of reading the majestic poetry, among the best in the Bible. The lament has endless depth, gripping pictures of destruction, and the collective moan of loss.

Two comments about laments come to mind. First, a lament combines both a personal situation as well as one's entire society.

Burning the Temple, a painting by Fransico Hayiz

When Jeremiah witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem's walls and the temple being burned, he recalled his frequent trips to pray inside those walls, to offer a sacrifice at the temple. But it wasn't only his loss. His entire society had been laid to waste. Personal and societal loss were bound up in the same expression of grief. 

Secondly, within a lament, within the awareness that the end of something precious has been lost, there is a new beginning. For David, the kingdom was now going to be his to govern. For Jeremiah, the awesome nature of God's judgment because of idolatry led him to an eternal confession, one we still sing about frequently. His words became our words. 

Monument of General Titus Capturing Jews in Jerusalem, Rome 

Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22,23

Looking around at our world right now, I wonder if we as Christians could agree on a lamentation. How ready we are to hoard more stuff, especially on Black Friday or Boxing Day. And how slow we are to think of the poor. How quickly do we approve of the third vaccination against Covid-19, when more than 50% of the world's population doesn't have access to even a first dose? How easy it is to buy even larger vehicles, store extra stuff in our garages and storage units outside our homes. At the same time, people south of the USA border and in at least 65 of the poorest nations in Africa and Asia have suffered through decades of inadequate governance. The list of ills seems endless. Not only that, the list seems to be growing ever longer. 

We need to reflect on this time of global crisis. Each of us has an image of something we have lost in these past years, perhaps a sense of security, perhaps a job, even a lost loved one. Our combined grief is deserving of a healthy lament.

Why "healthy"? Because it is in the moment that we accept our loss that we have to return, as Jeremiah did, to the everlasting faithfulness of the Lord. Jeremiah didn't ditch his people. They kept on sinning. They simply would not leave their idolatry. He loved his people and even followed them to Egypt, dying there. In the same way, we will love our neighbors, our friends, and our beloved family members, many of whom we might consider a lost cause. Why do we stick with our people when there seems to be no hope? 

It's because of the Lord. It's his faithfulness that holds us firm through the storms of life.