lament

Grief in this Holiday Season: Gospel Comfort for Every Loss

ELIZABETH TURNAGE | CONTRIBUTOR Grief is as old as the Fall. Ever since Adam and Eve chose to disobey God, eating of the one tree denied them, loss has plagued the cosmos. This loss leads to grief. As the holidays arrive this year, grief will be fresh for many, raw for some. In the Middle East, Ukraine, Turkey, the Southeastern United States, and many other places throughout the world, disaster has struck, and the holiday season threatens to swallow its victims in a sea of grief. This year, your neighbor or friend, your co-worker or cousin, or perhaps you yourself, weep deeply and often as you mourn the loss of a loved one, a job, a relationship, a home, or a pet. How can we help? How can we grieve with hope if we are the ones who have suffered loss? By understanding grief and by looking to Christ, our grief may lead to the hope of restoration this holiday season. We can grieve all sorts of losses. As Christians we sometimes feel guilty for grieving something like a lost home or pet, a lost job, or even a lost relationship. Somehow, we got the idea that grief should be reserved for death. Somehow, we got the idea that when we grieve a loved one who died, we should be “happy” because the person is in heaven. That’s simply not the way grief works, not in life, and not in Scripture. As we look at Scripture, we see reasons to grieve all sorts of losses. Surely, we may grieve death, because our Lord himself grieved the death of his dear friend Lazarus, despite knowing he would soon raise him from the dead (see John 11:1-44). Because God created the heavens and the earth and everything in it, and because he gave humans the responsibility of working the land and making it fruitful, it is natural to grieve the loss of land and work. Job, who lost everything — family, livestock, and land — to enemies and natural disasters (see Job 1:13-19), grieved deeply but was not rebuked for his grief. The Israelites wept for their homeland when they were in exile: “By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion” (Psalm 137:1). Because the Lord cares for all creatures great and small, it is also appropriate to grieve the loss of a pet who brought us a taste of the Lord’s delight. All of creation has the potential to show us the goodness of the Lord; for this reason, we may grieve the loss of any good gift from God. Grief really is worse during the holiday season...

Grief in this Holiday Season: Gospel Comfort for Every LossChristina Fox2024-11-11T20:18:57+00:00

Gethsemane Glasses

LAURA PATTERSON | GUEST I awoke that Friday morning in May to the same white walls and sterile smell for the twenty-second day in a row. The same dingy blinds covered the same window. The birthday cards I’d received the week prior were still taped up on the mirror on the far wall. The now familiar white blanket engulfed my legs and torso. The sense of familiarity I’d come to find in my surroundings was suddenly arrested that morning as feelings of shock, dread, and numbness flooded my body and left me wondering if I was truly awake. I’d just given birth during the wee hours of the morning and, after being returned to my antepartum room without my baby, I had somehow managed to sleep for an hour or two. Doctors, nurses, and a lactation consultant visited me in my haze, and I eventually got the news that I could go meet my child. My nurse assisted me into a wheelchair, and I took the longest ride of my life to the adjoining children’s hospital. I knew I was headed to meet my baby in the neonatal intensive care unit, but no amount of exposure or information could have prepared me for the shock of meeting my two-and-a-half-pound infant covered in tubes, lines, and bruises. The well-intentioned nurse assigned to my son that day noticed my tears, came to the bedside, and said gently, “it’s ok, mom.” “NO, IT’S NOT!” I yelled deep within my soul. From Demanding to Entrusting My internal cry that morning was full of truth. My baby was not ‘ok’. The neonatologist sat my husband and I down in a private room only hours later to help us understand that we should expect our son to die within a couple of days’ time. I felt the very visceral reality of life in a sin-sick, disease-laden, death-cursed world. Crying, ‘It’s not ok!’ wasn’t wrong. But it was incomplete...

Gethsemane GlassesChristina Fox2024-10-27T21:14:50+00:00

How Do We Pray When Prayer is Hard

ELIZABETH TURNAGE | CONTRIBUTOR “Father, please send your angels to protect my mom.” I spoke this prayer on night ten of my mom’s fierce battle with Covid. Five hours later, she was dead. Have you ever received a resounding “no” to heartfelt prayers? Have you prayed prayers for days, months, and years and seen no evidence of change at all? Prayers for the return of a wayward child, prayers for freedom from deeply rooted sin patterns, prayers for relief from chronic pain? Perhaps with David, you have cried day and night but heard no answer and found no rest (See Psalm 22:2). In such seasons, bitterness or cynicism threatens to mute our tongues. How do we pray when prayer is hard? Three Crucial Practices Three crucial practices help us to pray when prayer is hard: learning the language of lament, which deepens faith; leaning into community, which grows hope; and listening for God’s declaration of his unfailing love, which expands love for God and for others. Learning the Language of Lament When prayer is hard, learning the language of lament can help us to emerge with a stronger faith. As Pastor Mark Vroegop explains, “Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.”[i] Lament not only expresses our faith in the goodness of God, it also strengthens our faith in its expression. Prayers of lament often process through four categories: turning to God, naming the grief, asking persistently and boldly for help, and expressing restored confidence. Lamentations, Jeremiah’s lament over the fall of Jerusalem, illustrates each of these categories. Rather than turning away from God when relief from suffering doesn’t come, lamenters turn toward God. Jeremiah addresses his complaints to God in raw words few of us would dare to utter aloud: “You have wrapped yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through” (Lam. 3:44 ESV). Lamenters name their grief, refusing to minimize their suffering: “I am the one who has seen the affliction under the rod of his wrath; he has driven me and brought me into darkness without any light” (Lam. 3:1). Arguing that their current experience doesn’t seem to match their understanding of God’s goodness and mercy, lamenters ask persistently and boldly for help. Jeremiah keeps crying for help, “Remember, O Lord, what has befallen us; look, and see our disgrace!” (Lam. 5:1). In doing so, he expresses his firm conviction that “no one is abandoned by the Lord forever” (Lam. 3:31). Not always, but often, lamenters turn from complaint, expressing restored confidence that the Lord will redeem and restore again. Jeremiah’s turn comes in the familiar assurance: “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lam. 3:21-22). As Vroegop asserts, lament “stands in the gap between pain and promise.”[ii] Learning to lament helps when prayer is hard...

How Do We Pray When Prayer is HardChristina Fox2024-06-23T18:49:09+00:00

The Lament of Jesus

LISA WALLOVER|GUEST Christians are Resurrection People. We truly are. Every Easter morn, pastors around the world declare, “He is risen!” And all God’s people say, “He is risen, indeed!” Truly, every Sunday is that celebration! We serve a risen Savior. The tomb is empty. Life is full. Death, where is your sting? Except. Except that life still stings, sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes. Our hearts can be heavy. We are weary from the lingering weight of sin—around us, and within. To lament is to express to God that sadness that sits in our souls. I wonder if we are sometimes hesitant to lament because it somehow seems “unfaithful” to admit that sorrow can feel bigger than we are. Perhaps it even feels bigger than God. Is it possible that it is in this sorrow where we might meet God most closely? That He is there, waiting, because He deeply understands? That in our grief over sin and its effect, we may actually reflect God’s design and God’s heart? That in the midst of our sorrow we are “conformed to the image of His Son”? Isaiah wrote a description of the coming Messiah that sounds more like defeat than deliverance: He was to be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Is. 53:3). And yet, this is the way of the gospel. The path toward the joy and victory of the empty tomb goes through the grief of Gethsemane and pain of Golgotha. It travels through our own grief and pain as well. Our God understands sadness. The sorrow that Jesus felt, He felt perfectly. Completely. How grateful we can be that the Gospel writers share His lament. Jesus wept at the tomb of His friend, Lazarus...

The Lament of JesusChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:41:29+00:00

Whining vs. Biblical Complaint in Caregiving

MARISSA BONDURANT|GUEST When my kids wake up in the morning and complain about getting dressed for school, and the breakfast options I’ve offered, and the color of their lunch box, and the way their sister looked at them… I tell them to “stop whining.” When my own heart is dissatisfied with how my pants fit or my husband’s work schedule, or the fact that I wasn’t invited to something… I tell myself to “stop having a pity party.” But when our hearts are broken, sad, overwhelmed, and discouraged at the suffering of our loved one and the life changes required to care for them, should we still say “stop whining” to our tender hearts? Or is there another way to think about the brokenness we are experiencing? I believe there is a real difference between whining and biblically complaining. Whining is what we do when our preferences aren’t being met. Biblical complaint is when we acknowledge the disconnect between the pain of our lived-in reality, and what we know is true of God’s character and his plan for redeeming our world...

Whining vs. Biblical Complaint in CaregivingChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:44:52+00:00

Grieving Loss and Reordering Loves

When 2019 ended, I raised my glass and rejoiced at the conclusion of one of the hardest years of my adult life. I was thrilled to enter into 2020, seeing it as a new year filled with new potential. The first half of my year was planned to the max with travel, speaking engagements, conferences, teaching Bible study groups at my local church, and the publication of my first solo writing project. There was excitement, joy, and expectation; after a season of wandering, I felt as if I finally had direction and was gaining traction. During the first weekend of March, I was on a trip with friends in South Carolina when I got word of the first COVID-19 infection in Nashville, my hometown. As I traveled home on Monday morning, I found myself walking through empty airports and flying home on empty planes—the spring of 2020 had officially begun. Over the course of the next two weeks, my 2020 calendar went from full to numbingly blank, as every event I was attending or leading was (understandably) canceled. I spent hours on the phone with friends, crying about lost events, anxious about firings and furloughs. And I, like so many, had to learn to work from home in a job which was never meant to be done through a flat, cold, computer screen. On Monday, March 23rd I finally hit a wall. It became apparent that no amount of wealth, education, or social connection could prevent the experience of loss. This beast was going to deeply affect us all in some way. Any semblance of control seemed to be slipping away, and—if I am honest—the collective experience of loss left me feeling as if I were swimming against a rip tide of grief and fear....

Grieving Loss and Reordering LovesChristina Fox2022-05-05T00:12:17+00:00

On Oneness, Lament, and Seeing with Compassion

A few years ago, the PCA Women’s Ministry hosted the One Conference in several cities around the country. I attended many of them, all but one in fact. My favorite moment was experiencing the beauty of a multi-ethnic choir at a Mississippi church singing “Heal Us Emmanuel.” It was a beautiful moment that I will never forget. The theme of the conference came from John 17:21, “that they all may be one.” Those words of oneness ring in my head now as brazen acts of violence in rapid succession exasperate racial tensions in our nation. In particular, I am deeply disturbed over the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, two African American males senselessly slain in broad daylight. The haunting images of the evil portrayed against these men plague my thoughts and are on constant repeat in my mind, mocking my heart’s cry for oneness. I will confess to you that I am often tempted to look away as I honestly don’t know how much more I can witness and continue to move towards hope. The biggest lesson I am learning in this season is the power of lament as a vehicle to hope. Lament as Movement Towards Hope Following the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, I did what I have learned to do way too well – I compartmentalized. I conveniently tucked feelings away so that I could accomplish the task before me and complete the work day. When I finally made it home, I watched the video that was cycling through the news, and I was undone. I couldn’t sleep. I poured out an assortment of complex feelings before the Lord and just wept. Every time I thought about it, I wept. I realized that day that lament is costly and disruptive. It disrupted my plans and made space for emotions I didn’t care to feel. It ultimately pushed me to the throne of the only Help I know. That Help is our only hope; His name is Jesus...

On Oneness, Lament, and Seeing with CompassionChristina Fox2022-05-05T00:39:42+00:00