As our hands crack from the ever-growing stain of soap and hand sanitizer and we breathe recycled air through masks, the current season of pandemic presents the joyous opportunity to have our faith strengthened through this foreign, but ancient, form of prayer.

When life gets hard, I find myself turning to slave narratives and Negro spirituals and poetry. That, and the book of Psalms.

The Negro spirituals remind me I come from a long line of men and women who have endured horrific seasons of excruciation that seemed eternal. These songs and poetry are evidence of my ancestors’ hope and faith that God heard them, even when it felt like their suffering had no end—even when it seemed like God was silent. It’s comforting reading and singing about the perseverance of others.

The Psalms remind me that my spiritual lineage goes back even farther to God’s people who are no strangers to lament (Ps. 6:6; 13:1–4; 102:1–11). From wilderness wanderings to prosperity to conquest to exile, the Israelites knew suffering as a close—and often unwanted—confidant.

The Power of Lament

When we feel helpless, out of control, or scared, some of us are tempted to go into action mode. We do everything we can to ensure our suffering is minimized with little collateral damage.

But what if our first response was to sit in our mess and pray to God? What if, instead of trying to fix this, we were honest to God how we’re doing and what we’re feeling. What if we simply lamented?

Lament is crying out to God with no immediate hope of relief. Or as Canadian writer Jen Pollock Michel describes lament in Surprised by Paradox:

In language that seems hardly admissible in God’s throne room, as men and women pray to God, they try making faithful sense of the mystery of their suffering—and the love of God in the worst of circumstances. Lament, with its clear-eyed appraisal of suffering alongside its commitment to finding audience with God, is a paradoxical practice of faith.

In America, where we have come to expect prosperity, lament likely seems strange to many of us. Foreign, even. Biblically, there is a powerful history of lament—in the wilderness, throughout Psalms, during the exile.

As our hands crack from the ever-growing stain of soap and hand sanitizer and we breathe recycled air through masks, the current season of pandemic presents the joyous opportunity to have our faith strengthened through this foreign, but ancient, form of prayer.

Remember God’s Track Record—It’s Good

We’re forgetful beings. We’re prone to absent-mindedness. When life is good we tend to feel like we don’t need God.

We’re equally prone to forget God’s track record of faithfulness when things are bad because grief easily overwhelms us to the point where we can only see the despair of the moment. Looking forward—to the ever-growing ambiguity of the future—only causes more anxiety. The stress of what is can cloud our memory of what was. Sadness can blur our recollection of how God has shown up in the past.

In Psalm 44—a corporate psalm of lament—the psalmist begins by reminding readers of God’s goodness, a truth that had been passed down for generations. Truth celebrated by the covenant community. “God, we have heard with our ears—our ancestors have told us—the work you accomplished in their days, in days long ago” (Ps. 44:1).

Read More