Rejoicing in Lament: Wrestling with Incurable Cancer and Life in Christ

by J. Todd Billings

Recipient of Publishers Weekly starred review and Christianity Today 5-star review

At the age of 39, Christian theologian Todd Billings was diagnosed with a rare form of incurable cancer. In the wake of that diagnosis, he began grappling with the hard theological questions we face in the midst of crisis: Why me? Why now? Where is God in all of this? This eloquently written book shares Billings's journey, struggle, and reflections on providence, lament, and life in Christ in light of his illness, moving beyond pat answers toward hope in God's promises. Theologically robust yet eminently practical, it engages the open questions, areas of mystery, and times of disorientation in the Christian life. Billings offers concrete examples through autobiography, cultural commentary, and stories from others, showing how our human stories of joy and grief can be incorporated into the larger biblical story of God's saving work in Christ.

Genres: Theology, Nonfiction, Christian, Christian Living, Memoir, Faith, Grief

218 pages, Paperback

First published February 10, 2015

About the author

J. Todd Billings is the Girod Research Professor of Reformed Theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, MI (Th.D. Harvard). His first book, Calvin, Participation, and the Gift, won a 2009 Templeton Award for Theological Promise. His third book, Union with Christ, won a 2012 Christianity Today Book Award. His 2015 book, Rejoicing in Lament, gives a theological reflection on providence and lament in light of his 2012 cancer diagnosis. His latest book, The End of the Christian Life, explores how the journey of authentic discipleship involves embracing our mortal limits. He is married to Rachel M. Billings, an Old Testament scholar (Ph.D., Harvard). They have a lively household with two young children and a very opinionated cat.

Reviews

[Derek Emerson · Rating 5 out of 5]

[A full disclaimer is needed at the outset. Todd Billings is a friend and neighbor. In fact, at the time of his diagnosis he was our next door neighbor. It was a diagnosis that hit us hard, as at that time our youngest son was in midst of treatment for the cancer that would eventually end his life. It is my son, Oliver, that Todd refers to at one point in the book. While this relationship would incline one to think I'll find favor with the book, it actually creates more risk for me to be hurt by what he writes. If that had happened, I would have remained silent. Instead, I offer my reflections on a book that helps me to wrestle with the loss in my life.]

I've read many books and articles dealing with loss and the Christian faith. While some of these have addressed core questions, most offer glib advice and cliches. A notable exception is Jerry Sittser's "A Grace Revealed," which combines his own grief with his faith in a way that is both authentic and enlightening. Add to the list of essential works on grief and our faith, Todd Billings' new book, "Rejoicing in Lament: Wrestling with Incurable Cancer and Life in Christ." Billings uses the Psalms as the basis for exploring his own diagnosis of multiple myeloma at the age of 39, and the result is a call to believers to embrace lament as part of their faith. Well, it says much more than that. Still, finding someone who shows how scripture gives us permission to mourn, rage, cry, and beg to our God, in the midst of the covenant relationship, is inspiring.

I'm not a theologian, so I'll leave the deep theological arguments to those better equipped for such a discussion. I approach the book as a Christian father who lost the youngest of his four children to neuroblastoma cancer. A father who watched helplessly for nearly three years as the disease killed his little boy; a father seemingly helpless to help a family move forward after losing their son. Billings has my attention early on as he addresses the question of evil in the world. So much of what we think revolves around the question of, how could this happen? How could God allow my little boy to die? How could God allow a young father to develop an incurable cancer? Any explanation of this that I have seen falls dreadfully short of a satisfactory answer. Personally, I expect no answer and have to come to see my lack of understanding as my inability to comprehend God. Billings, I was thrilled to see, agrees.

"...in my view the biblical 'answer' to the speculative problem of evil is this (drum roll, please): we don't have an answer. It's not that the Bible hasn't addressed the question so that we as humans are left with a shoulder-shrugging 'I don't know.' The Bible has addressed the question, and God's response--as in the book of Job--is that humans don't have an answer to the problem of evil, and we shouldn't claim that we have one. It should remain an open question, one that we continue to ask in prayer and in our lives in response to the world's suffering"(21). [Although I will not go into detail here, Billing's exploration of Job in Chap. 2 should not be missed].

Billings sees this question laid bare at my son's funeral. Our priest, Billings writes, repeatedly said "God has called Oliver to himself," and "God has chosen to call Oliver at this time." Billings response to this is honest and insightful. "Wow. A part of my heart cried, 'Surely not!' ...The priest was confessing that God is sovereign King even in the suffering and death of Oliver. There was sting to this--implicating God in the struggle with Oliver's cancer and his death at a young age--but also a reassurance. The sting is the theodicy question as an open question. It hurts. The death of a child is not the way things are supposed to be--why did God allow this to happen? Yet the reassurance is that Oliver did not just slip through God's fingers. In life and death, Oliver was in God's hands...We trust in the goodness and power of the Almighty, even though the reasons for the suffering are beyond human wisdom"(66).

Note that Billings does not say we should joyfully accept it as "God's will" or just say "trust in God." Instead, he challenges us to continue to bring the question to God in prayer. We must not ignore the question, but faithfully approach God for understanding in the midst of suffering. Billings refuses to let us retreat to a fatalistic approach to life. "We protest, lament, and act with compassion even when we are overwhelmed with the magnitude of problem"(76). We are called to compassionate action in the midst of an evil world. We do not this not because we can change the world, but because our faith calls for action in the midst of evil. "As our lips say 'They kingdom come,' we pray--and act--as revolutionaries who protest against the darkness in this 'present evil age' (Gal. 1:4)"(76).

Of course, such prayer may not touch those in crisis. How do we respond to people who face evil, indeed horror, when tragedy strikes their family? Billings points us back to scripture.

"Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak" (Ps. 31:9-10)

Billings says that since his diagnosis, "Ive found that my Christians know how to rejoice about answered prayer and also how to petition God for help, but many don't know what to do when I express sorrow and loss or talk about death"(41). This is difficult for people in general, but as Christians it shows the limits of our faith. Are we afraid to acknowledge our inability to respond to grief with anything but lament? As someone who struggled through his son's illness and death, I didn't want assurances of his happiness or God's love. It is preciously because I love and worship God that I can cry out to him, and I want others to join me in that lament. That is difficult to do, and prior to my son's illness, I failed others in that area.

This is not a pessimistic theology. Billings wants us to celebrate all that God has given us through praise and rejoicing. The Psalmists balance their laments with songs of praise. But they still lament. "A theology of the cross is not a joyless path but one with tears of joy and celebration as well as tears of lament" (177). In a wonderful passage, Billings shows how his moments of joy (his wedding, the arrival of a child) sometimes highlight times of lament. "You need to live as a mortal" (93). In doing so, we more fully recognize God's sovereignty in all areas of our life.

Billings also explores the power of prayer in the midst of tragedy. He recalls the prayers for healing for my young son were not granted. How could God allow this?
Again, this brings us back to the theodicy question, and Billings points us to Jesus' prayer at Gethsemane. Jesus prays to have the cup of suffering to be taken away. "Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death"(Heb. 5:7). God could save Jesus, and he chooses not to. God could have saved my son's life, but he did not. God could cure Todd, but still he suffers. What does this mean? "The problem is not God's lack of power, nor a deficiency in God's love. The denial of Jesus' petition does not arise from a failure to ask for another way than the cross or a lack of faith in the God of power and love. Jesus presents his heart to the Father in Gethsemane as a way to bring his will into alignment with the God of power and love who wills and works in mysterious, hidden ways: through the cross" (127).

Those seeing God as a vending machine -- insert the prayer and get what you paid for, are at a loss when their prayers are not answered as expected. Billings says such an approach misses the understanding of Christ crucified. "we can open our hearts before our loving Father in prayer, but as we pray, we pay on a path toward a particular end: 'Thy will be done,' like our Lord did in the garden"(128).

This book is important for many reasons, but what strikes me most is Billings call for an understanding of lament in our Christian faith. "Lamenting with the psalmists is a practice that is counter to our consumer culture. Lament fixes our eye's on God's promises and brings the cries of confusion and pain--our own and those of others--before the covenant Lord" (177). What Billings has given us here is the ability to cry out to God in lament, and know that we do so with the voices of all those before us. The psalmists show a people groaning in pain, but doing so with an understanding of God's promise.

[Jonathan Brown · Rating 4 out of 5]

A moving, heartfelt, head-rich book, not shy about complexity but always open to the light. Perhaps one of the best books on this particular topic. Should I ever develop cancer (quite likely, given my family history), it's one I'll turn to again in a heartbeat. I preface this review with just one critique: Billings is an academic, and even here, he writes like one. Numerous forays into theological disputes with, e.g., Moltmann and numerous others; heavily laden with jargon; all in all, very little concession to a reader with less schooling. I consider this a serious drawback, because this is a book I would otherwise recommend absolutely to every member of my churches who has some case of terminal illness, especially cancer, in their family. As it stands, I can only recommend it somewhat under qualification, in that its beauty and power may be obscured to the sight of those who stand most in need of it.

That said, in his late thirties, Billings was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in an already-advanced stage. As a theology professor in the Reformed tradition, he in this book, especially by drawing on the entries he wrote in his CarePages account during his treatment process, allows us to eavesdrop on the pains and joys of every stage of the physical, mental, medical, and emotional trip from pre-diagnosis to temporary remission. Taking the Psalms as a companion guide for virtually the whole journey, Billings highlights the third category beyond praise and petition: lament. He rightly urges us to reclaim the psalms of lament in the church, and especially to do so as tools for the cancer journey.

In the first chapter, Billings considers Psalm 31:8 and its promise of "a spacious place," contrasting this with the feeling of a tightened and constricted future that cancer or other terminal illnesses can threaten. Billings turns to the biblical conception of death as an enemy fated to be not just defeated but destroyed by a God who "has not promised to spare us from earthly death" but has nevertheless already "conquered it in Christ" (12).

The second chapter tangles mainly with the Book of Job, and postulates that the Bible never aims to give us any explanatory material for why we suffer, and that all of theodicy is a hopeless enterprise. (I disagree somewhat - I think Billings does not fully grapple with the deeper message of Job, sticking instead to the surface.) He is right, at least, in calling us to chastened and humbled thinking. And he's also right in comparing Job's false comforters with those who attempt to offer cheap explanations to cancer patients. Billings correctly denounces "the therapeutic god of American culture" as "an idol" (32).

The third chapter commences the deeper venture into the psalms, stressing that the Psalter never denies our turbulent emotions but rather aims to help us learn how to "lament in the right things and take joy in the right things" (38). Cherry-picking the psalms for only 'positive' expressions is a major crime of the church, because the psalms are there to enable us to move from pain and confusion through anger all the way to trust, even in the absence of an alternation in our external situation. Biblical lament is honest about our fear and outrage, but brings it to "a Savior, Jesus Christ, who knows human suffering and grief" and who receives our expressions of such to him as "an act of faith and trust" (53).

The fourth chapter addresses our faulty attempts to look for 'the reason behind' our suffering, including 'the reason behind' our cancer, and wrestles with the dilemma of whether to pray for a complete cure or a deep remission. Billings observes that a 'faith' based on expecting God to do a particular thing is only the sort of 'trust' we'd place in a vending machine; that God ordinarily works in mediated ways, through people and water and bread and wine and doctors and chemotherapy; and that lament will always be part of Christian living until the kingdom of God arrives in its fullness. While we are obligated to protest to God that our sufferings in the present are not the way things ought to be (and God agrees!), we can trust him in our protest, "for God can and does use even evils like cancer toward his own good ends" (71).

The fifth chapter, addressing the common phenomenon of 'compassion fatigue' and its parallels to the temptation he's had to give up on hope, argues that 'compassionate witness,' even when it seems at its most overwhelmed, is an act of resistance, constituting us as "revolutionaries who protest against the darkness in this 'present evil age'" (76). Even when he feels too weak and weary to hope or even lament, nevertheless "we don't hope in hope. We hope in a God who can make dry bones of hopelessness live again" (91-92).

The sixth chapter, tackling the phenomenon of death head-on, observes that the world around us is a theater for God's glory but one in which good is rendered finite by mortality. We act under the delusion that we are self-made individuals, charters of our own course, and it is in part for this reason that cancer diagnoses (or others like them) can seem like such a derailment. What we need to do is to live in light of a different overarching story, the one about God's kingdom. In this chapter, Billings has one of the most profound extended passages about the gift the church really is to his cancer journey. Only in the church does Billings find a place "where we develop relationships, celebrate our faith and life together, and also extend those same relationships all the way through dying and death. ... It's a marvelous gift that the church who baptizes and celebrates new life in Christ also does funerals, mourns with the dying, and celebrates the promise of resurrection in Christ. ... I would go so far as to say that a top recommended question from me for 'church shoppers' might be this: who would you like to bury you?" (99). Billings celebrates the gospel as "good news that is big enough to incorporate and envelop our dying and death, even when it seems senseless" (107), and our joy isn't found in unraveling the mystery ourselves but in letting God "gather up the fragments" and "finish the story" in his resurrection-oriented way (109).

The seventh chapter, revisiting the 'cure' vs. 'remission' debate, observes that even if God gave him a complete cure this very hour, he would not thereby return to 'life as usual,' since doctors would keep him on maintenance chemotherapy and tests. Billings urges us to pause in lament before we move to prayers for healing, and for even our prayers of healing themselves to be prayers for greater conformity to the cross of Christ.

The eighth chapter is, in my view, among the most startling and insightful in the whole book. Billings is fixated on the fact that the chemotherapy he was given was a deadly poison derived from mustard gas, and that our whole discourse around cancer is martial and military in character. Just the same, he sees, the gospel prescribes 'strong medicine' to heal sinners - with Christ crucified as "the strong medicine and the true healer" from sin, a malady more dire than cancer (142). To have that strong medicine effective in us, we must actually be nourished by Jesus, united to Jesus, feed on Jesus. A further analogy from chemotherapy: After Billings received his post-chemo stem-cell treatment, he was consigned to a sterile lodge to see if his bones would 'engraft' the stem cells and produce white blood cells again. Without engraftment, the rescue plan of the strong medicine will have failed. Just the same, per Romans 6:5, we must be engrafted into Christ and into his earthly body (the church), not through our own efforts, but through his Spirit working in faith. And if this is a divine pattern, then Billings perceives that, more generally, "afflictions that might appear poisonous on their own can actually bring life through the Father's hands" (137). Such 'strong medicines' as spiritual trials, sorrow, grief, and anguish of heart can "restore true human health," if we're engrafted into Christ - and "in abiding in Christ, in feeding on Christ, we receive a medicine deep and strong enough that we will never go into relapse" (148).

The ninth chapter appeals to the doctrine of God's impassibility that yet encompasses our sufferings, and Billings correctly sees Christ as the place where "the covenant God himself has taken on our human suffering, even our sufferings of alienation and dread" (154). Because of this, no matter how terrified or how hurting we are, "we can look to Christ to see, hear, and taste that we are still in the ever-faithful, ever-loving hands of God" (155).

In the tenth and final chapter, then, Billings encounters and shares the refreshing reminder that "God and the story of his mighty acts and ongoing work are bigger than my cancer story," for while "God's story does not annihilate my cancer story," yet "it asks for my story to be folded into the dying and rising of Christ as one who belongs to him" (169). And so, taking the Psalter as our key again, we see that in our present stories of suffering, of grief, of terminal illness, or whatever else, "the final chapters of our prayers will be praise" (173). And that is the promise of hope we need, and for which I'd recommend this book rather highly.

[BillHanley · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have stage 4 cancer with it spreading into my bones and lymph nodes. Reading this book helped with my thoughts and emotions, as well as my spiritual response to my creator. I encounter on a daily basis the response of other believers. Some help and really some don't. Dr. Billings walked me through a thorough but easy to understand, response to God and to others from what I might initially feel and think. He takes you through each stage of thoughts and feelings. He offers ways to talk to God in prayer that allow for complaint (lament) and yet bring me back to reality of who God is and how much he loves me. I see my ultimate entry into heaven with reassurance. I recommend this book to all with cancer, all types, to help you while you deal with the disease. A great book for Pastor's to have available for when that diagnosis shows up in the congregation.

[Matthew Mitchell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Profound theological reflections on biblical lament by a man who, sadly and gladly, has had to practice what he preaches.

In 2012, Todd Billings was diagnosed with stage 3 (out of 3) multiple myeloma and told he needed to start chemotherapy the next week. Todd was only 39 and had a wife and two very small children. Immediately, Todd went through intensely aggressive treatment to reach a first remission and then began continual lifelong retesting for the almost inevitable return of the cancer. Todd Billings has entered into deep suffering.

Todd Billings is also a theologian. A professor at Western Theological Seminary and author of several award-winning books on theology, Billings knows his Bible as well as systematic and historical theology. Rejoicing in Lament is the searchingly beautiful result of Billings’ suffering and theology coming together in profound harmony.

This book would be good even if you only got one of those two sides of Todd Billings. He’s a very good writer who draws you into his experience. When he was diagnosed, he began a blog about what he was going through and his thoughts about it. Many of the entries are sprinkled throughout the book. You feel his stinging pain. You wrestle with mortality. You ask the puzzling questions with him. You exult when the treatment works or when he reaches an new insight. It’s a very personal book. And yet he’s never overly dramatic or maudlin.

And the theology is top shelf. He explores the often ignored “sad” parts of Scripture–Psalms of lament, the book of Job, the suffering of Jesus in the Gospels. His discussion partners are varied and rich–Calvin, the Heidelberg Catechism, Athanasius, Bonhoeffer, Plantinga, Dostoevsky, Brueggemann, Volf, Wright, Augustine, Aquinas, Barth, Lewis, Trueman, Vanhoozer, Luther, Kapic, Nazianzus, and Owen to name just a few with recognizable last names. He wrestles with theodicy, bitter providence, sickness, sin, the curse, negative emotions, death, and the nature of God. And yet it never feels like an academic exercise or textbook.

I don’t think I would have appreciated this book as I did, if I hadn’t gone through a scary illness myself with my perforated colon and abdominal surgery in 2015. I could easily identify with many of his thoughts on living as mortal creature before God. His feelings, his fears, his grief. For example in chapter 9, Billings writes:

Sometimes suffering feels like a free fall rather than a swing down to the valley on a rope that will bring me back up to safety. My doctors were delighted at my body’s response to the transplant, and I was giving thanks to God. I was thankful to be alive. I knew that many others (with cancer or other trials) have had much rockier roads than my own, and that in a matter of months I would be returning to ‘the land of the living.’ But to my own surprise, much of my deepest grieving came after this good news. I recall lying on my bed in the cancer lodge, crying aloud, when the thought came to my mind: my life would never be the same...As I thought about returning to my ‘normal life.’ I felt more alienated than ever. How was I to respond to ordinary questions like ‘How are you?’ and ‘How have you been?’ How was I to look toward the future–for my family, for my vocation? ‘My eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call on you, O LORD; I spread out my hands to you’ (Ps. 88:9). I feared for my children, that they would lose their father midcourse in their childhood. The good news about my transplant didn’t take this fear away” (pgs. 149-150).

I had all of the same feelings and thoughts as I recovered from my surgery and it was compounded by the death of a dear friend. I appreciated how Billings didn’t ignore or deny or stuff these feelings and thoughts into a dark box in the corner of his psyche, but brought them out into the light of day and into the presence of God. Billings never pretends that there are any easy answers, but he also never gives in to despair or unbelief.

In fact, pulsing through (not over or around) all of the lamentation in this book is a true joy. Billings doesn’t offer any syrupy or saccharine sweetness, but he does offer a trustworthy God who is redeeming sinners remaking the whole world new. He presents Jesus who went before us in suffering–a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He reminds us that God is unchanging and perfect yet perfectly approachable with all of our fickleness, feebleness, and anguish. He holds out a God whose grace is sufficient even when we don’t have healing or answers. He prods us by both good theology and living example to say, “I am not my own, but belong–body and soul, in life and in death–to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.” What could be better than that?

I’ve dedicated myself to reading really good books this year, but I don’t expect to read a more profound, personal, and theologically rich book in 2018. Highly recommended.

[Andrzej Stelmasiak · Rating 5 out of 5]

WOW. What a tremendous book. Beautiful yet profound. (Solid) theological reflection on the sad reality of suffering, and balanced individual-corporate response to it.

Very accessible, good to give to an average churchgoer.

FAR MUCH BETTER than Vroegop's book, these are actually worlds apart... Yeah, there is definitely a difference between Reformed and Evangelical answer to one's suffering.

6 out of 5 stars.

[Andrew Krom · Rating 5 out of 5]

Billings helps his readers see the importance of biblical lament in the midst of incurable cancer. He draws on his understanding of Union with Christ to point his readers to our Savior. Drawing from his "care pages" as he was going through cancer treatment, he shows his heart as he is working through the reality of death. This book was excellent.

[Stephen · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is a rare book that can hover been the academic and the personal in a way that enriches both realms. After he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma at age 39, J. Todd Billings’ life took a surprising turn. A future that had once been measured in decades now lay shrouded in fog. This narrowing of his future led Billings deeper into prayer as he wrestled with his diagnosis. The fruit of that reflection and his journey is found in Rejoicing in Lament.

As Billings notes, “God’s story does not annihilate my cancer story, but it does envelop and redefine it. Indeed, it asks for my story to be folded into the dying and rising of Christ as one who belongs to him” (169). The shape and tone of Rejoicing in Lament follows this central claim. It is a book about a man’s journey from his diagnosis with multiple myeloma through treatment and eventual bone marrow transplant. It is this story, but it is much bigger than this story. Rejoicing in Lament is a book about cancer, but it is about much more than cancer. It is neither a memoir nor a theological treatise on the problem of evil. Instead, the questions he wrestles with and the suffering he undergoes become vivid windows into the depths of the Christian life and the profoundly good news of the Gospel. By sharing his life, Billings does not point back to himself, but allows his story to point to God’s promises, to God’s faithfulness, and to the call to prayer and discipleship.

The opening chapters explore Billings’ initial experiences of diagnosis and treatment and the questions they raised. His anguished question ‘why?’ is left unanswered, but instead, it is brought before the Lord in prayer. Drawing deeply upon the psalms of lament, Billings finds a space to offer grief, confusion, frustration, and sorrow to God from a place of trust. Lament, for Billings, is not a sign of disbelief or lack of faith, but can only be truly made from a place of trust in God’s promises. This exploration leads him into discussions of mortality, and of the nature of creaturely knowledge, as well as theological concepts such as concursus and divine impassibility. His explanations and use of these concepts manages to be accessible without losing clarity and substance. The second half of the book draws more explicit connections between Todd’s journey with cancer and the nature of the Christian life. Even in the dark, even in the dim fog, God’s unfailing love can be trusted. And so we rejoice and we lament.

This book is truly a feast. One of the most profound blessings of Rejoicing in Lament is Billings’ refusal to settle for easy answers. He argues that the ‘problem of evil’ should remain an open question. An open question gives us freedom to lament and freedom to trust in God. Easy answers often serve as excuses to blame others or refuse to act ourselves. If my friend is not healed because of his lack of faith, then I don’t need to do anything about it. If his suffering is directly a result of God’s perfect plan for him, then why should I work to alleviate it, since it’s God’s will? Instead, Billings calls us to ‘join the resistance.’ Lamenting includes not only prayers of protest before God, but actions of protest. The world is not as it should be. Christ has not yet returned and set the world right. Therefore, our response of compassion takes on the nature of protest.

Rejoicing in Lament is a book for theologians and pastors. It is a book for those struggling with cancer and for those who care for them. It is a book for regular people who pray and who struggle to walk with God. But even more so, Rejoicing in Lament is a book for all those who belong to Christ and groan for his return. It is a book for all of us and it is well worth reading.

[Ashley McKnight · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful read looking at lament in the life of the Christian, and how we can have hope in the midst of deepest losses. Billing looks to the psalms and teaches us how they should frame our experience of loss and lament by looking through the lens of his own experience with a very rare form of cancer. He addresses many issues such as how to respond and pray in light of loss and suffering, how we can rob others of the space to lament with many half-truths, how we pray in light of the coming kingdom while not experiencing its fullness now.

High reccomended.

[Michael Philliber · Rating 5 out of 5]

C.S. Lewis once stated, “If you do not listen to theology, that will not mean that you have no ideas about God. It will mean that you have a lot of wrong ones – bad, muddled, out-of-date ideas” (“Mere Christianity,” 128). But for many people theology is simply dusty, drab, dispassionate, desiccated drivel. And then into the mix life happens, or death, bringing tragedy and theology to meet and clash in the sparring ring. It’s right here, in all of the sweat, the grit and the grappling, that J. Todd Billings, research professor of Reformed Theology at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan, and ordained minister in the Reformed Church in America, presents his own, very personal , tussle with life-threatening cancer and life-enriching theology . His soon to be published 224 page paperback, “Rejoicing in Lament: Wrestling with Incurable Cancer & Life in Christ” displays the beauty of how his Reformed and Calvinist theology worked into, throughout, and along with the shock of the diagnosis, the grueling treatments and the fatiguing recovery. This is a book where calamity and creed come together, all scuffling and brawling, which then morph into dancing and pirouetting.
The chapters of “Rejoicing in Lament” sequentially walk the reader through the autobiographical scenes of Billings’ crawl along his ongoing experiences with multiple myeloma, periodically incorporating entries from his CarePages. As the author takes us through each stage, he ties in salient theological aspects, tackling subjects like the problem of evil, the mystery of divine providence, the place of faithful lamentation while longing for the new heavens and new earth, the significance of the church, the right emphasis in prayer, regeneration, and God’s impassibility. The author’s goal in pulling together tragedy and theology is to shake us loose from the dreamy middle class American mirage that says we have a divine right to the good life, the pain-free life, the prosperous life, the health-filled life. And once set free from this entitlement myth to draw us upward into our heritage in Christ, a durable heritage we have even when faced with disease, dying and death; “Our lives are not our own, and our stories have been incorporated into the great drama of God’s gracious work in the world in Jesus Christ through the Spirit. As we come to sense our role in this drama, we find that it is a path of lament and rejoicing, protest and praise, rooted in trust in the Triune God, the central actor; we can walk on this path even while the fog is thick. For God is bigger than cancer. God is bigger than death. The God of Jesus Christ is the God of life, whose loving promises will be shown as true in the end. Until that time, we wait with the psalmist for the Lord and hope in his Word” (15-6).

One recurrent focus in “Rejoicing in Lament” is the use of the Psalms, with all of their hope, anger, complaint, lament and rejoicing. In some very tangible ways this is a “how-to” book with regard to integrating the Psalms into our prayers, our cries of “why?” and “how come?” and “how long, O LORD?”, as well as our prayers on behalf of others who find themselves flooded by misfortune. “…praying the Psalms allows every part of us to come before the Triune God, to be seen by him as his adopted son or daughter – to praise, complain, and even vent before the Almighty. God can handle our laments and our petitions. Our laments pivot on God’s promises” (14). To take up the Psalms on our lips, and in our prayers, is to wrap up our griefs, woes, joys, and delights and hand them back to God in the words of Scripture. To do this is not an act of irreligion, but an “act of faith and trust” (55). And as Christians united to Christ, we also do this Psalm-praying in solidarity with Christ Jesus himself. This means that we “don’t have to suppress anger or confusion or misery before coming before the Almighty. With an open heart we bring all of this before the covenant Lord, entrusting him to hear our cries and moving toward trust in his loving-faithfulness and covenant promises. Moreover, since we pray the Psalms with Christ and in Christ, all of our prayer resonates with the Lord’s Prayer. “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done.” ( . . . ) we are displaced from our old self, which seeks autonomy, to find our true life in that of the crucified Lord, the One to whom the Spirit conforms us” (172). From one end of the book to the other, praying along with the Psalms is helpfully displayed, encouraged, and modelled.

“Rejoicing in Lament” addresses several relevant theological categories as they tangle around his tragedy, as mentioned above. But two of the subjects that I found genuinely exceptional had to do with God’s providence, and God’s Church. In Chapter 4, “Lamenting to the Almighty,” the author goes toe-to-toe with theodicy, God’s providence in the face of evil. Here Billings challenges both those who raise “the problem of evil” and two Christian answers that cause more trouble than they resolve: Fatalism and Open Theism. In the end, the author – rightly it seems to me – leaves the problem of evil open: that God is utterly good, truly sovereign, genuinely employs humans free-choosing, does not automatically use mechanistic algorithms of “evil is always the result of badness, or weakness of faith,” and finally, at the end of the day, God simply doesn’t answer our questions about why there is evil in the present world. “The biblical practice of leaving suffering as an open question before God can be difficult to maintain, particularly as we consider the providential care and power of God. Yet leaving the problem of suffering and evil as an open question is essential if we are to affirm Scripture’s testimony about who God is and who we are” (57).

“Rejoicing in Lament” also picks up the role of the Church in this clash of calamity and creed, but the way the author approaches the subject will likely surprise some. In the sixth Chapter, “Death in the Story of God and in the Church,” Billings carefully describes how the Christian congregation is one – if not the only remaining – institution that mingles together in a single community births, baptisms, bridals and burials; “It’s a marvelous gift that the church who baptizes and celebrates new life in Christ also does funerals, mourns with the dying, and celebrates the promise of resurrection in Christ. For some young people, the church is one of the only places that they are exposed to death in a real, personal way – where someone they knew has died” (99). The author recounts how death and life, grief, betrayal, joy and loyalty come together in a congregation’s worship, through Word and Sacrament; through the Gospel declaration, “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, ( . . . ), he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15.3-4); and the Sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist, which both announce Christ’s death and ours, and Christ’s resurrection which gives us life! Therefore the Christian congregation is “a gathering of sinners who are both old and young, healthy and sick, growing and dying. But, by God’s promise, the church is also people who move through birth, health, dying, and even death on a journey to resurrection because they belong to Jesus Christ” (101). In an unexpected turn, all of this brings the author to ask “church shoppers” one conspicuous question; of all the congregations you have visited, “who would you like to bury you” (99)?

“Rejoicing in Lament” is a book where calamity and creed come together, all scuffling and brawling, which then morph into dancing and pirouetting. As readers work their way through each page and chapter, they will likely come to places where they will stop and weep, blush, give thanks, reflect on their own collusion with the entitlement mirage, repent, and cry out with the father of the boy with the convulsing, destroying spirit, “I believe; help my unbelief” (Mark 9.24)! I warmly and heartily commend to you “Rejoicing in Lament”

My earnest thanks to Brazos Press who generously provided a copy of this book for this review.

[Feel free to print, post or publish this review; but as always, please give credit where credit is due. Mike]

[Tori Samar · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although Dr. Billings and I don't share the same theological perspective (he writes from a Reformed perspective, and it does influence his remarks in places), I appreciated this thoughtful "wrestling" with how his story of having incurable cancer fits into God's bigger story for humanity and the rest of creation. By my observation, this isn't really a book that follows a linear progression of thought. It's more like a series of meditations on various things like lament, mortality, the problem of evil, suffering, the psalms, etc. (I picked up the book primarily so that I could see what he said about lament). Whether you agree with everything Dr. Billings says on these topics or not, it is certainly encouraging to see how he is using his cancer struggle to contemplate weighty truths. And now that I've finished the book, I can definitely affirm that his trial has given him a better understanding than most of how the Christian life is meant to be both joy and lament.

(Read for the 2017 Tim Challies Christian Reading Challenge: A book about suffering)

[April Yamasaki · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent book - personal, self-reflective, thoughtful, theological, with many insights on suffering, prayer, and the purpose of life. "We pray as a Christ-shaped people for a Christ-shaped kingdom to come." "Until the kingdom comes in its fullness, the Christian life will continue to involve ongoing lament & ongoing rejoicing." I've already referred to this book once for a sermon on lament, and am sure I will draw on it again in my preaching.

[Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a depth book - not for the faint of heart- as this book goes into great detail and deep theology in Billings 's experience with his diagnosis of cancer. His views of lament as a Christian who faces a dire prognosis is spot on. I especially liked his thoughts on the pop culture views of God as a granting favors God - wish fulfillment God or that of a no- control God- Fatalistic God. I also appreciated his thoughts and theology on the thought that in order to have one's requests to God fulfilled , one must have the faith to believe that only good = a cure will occur if one has enough faith which sets one up for a loss of faith if the expected outcome does not happen. I am not a theologian but I am a believer in a deep core of faith and trust which is in a capsule - Heidelberg Question and answer 1.This book is also a guide in respecting those who are ill with what to say and not say as we all stumble and bumble our way in communication and points to all of our humanity - the very imperfection of us all in this world.

[Jamie Howison · Rating 3 out of 5]

I started reading this some time ago, and at first I was really taken by it. Billings is a theologian with some serious credentials, who also happens to by living with (slowly dying from...) cancer. His engagement with the theological tradition, the psalms, his own disease and all that it means to those around him really rather gripped me. But then it seemed like the book was too long, with too many detours and theological bunny-trails. I can't blame him, really, as he was clearly working out a very personal theological vision. But I did stall.

And then I read Paul Kalanithi's "When Breath Becomes Air," which is compactly and beautifully written, and it sort of hamstrung me for this book. Where Kalanithi's theology is one that is intuited in the air around him, Billings works his openly and with an earnestness that finally tired me out. Not that this isn't a good book, but I so wish he'd had a stronger editor who could have pressed him to write with less ink and maybe just a bit more economy.

[Douglas Hayes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful book for both those who suffer and for those who minister the the suffering. This NOT just about incurable disease, cancer and dying. It is about living in a world that is not the way it was created to be, and anticipating the work of Sovereign God through the work of Christ bring all things to right. It is about how to think rightly, pray in faith, sing the Psalms and live in the community of the saints. It is about how to talk and live with and for those who are suffering. Its about how to serve meaningfully, and hopefully. I wish I had this excellent book when I started my ministry!

[Stephen Hielkema · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am very thankful for Billings' honest and candid expression of lament in the face of incurable cancer. So often in the midst of life we either despair or try desperately to put on a brave face, that we forget that God invites us to lament and cry out to him. It is through this lament then that we find strength, hope, and trust to move forward!

[Nate Duriga · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a mature, biblically and theologically informed reflection on suffering prompted by the author's own suffering with incurable cancer at an early age. Drawing on the Psalms and how they spoke to the author's emotions during his crisis, with enriching insights from the commentaries of Luther and Calvin, this is a worthwhile meditation.

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book should be required reading for all Christians.

[Anja Noordam · Rating 5 out of 5]

I appreciated the honesty of Dr. Billings and the courage to tackle very difficult issues. No easy answers, but letting God be God.
The list that I will share this book with is growing.

[Paul · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thank Dr. Billings for writing this book about his faith and health. His honesty in his reflection shines bright. Billings shares a comment from a woman at his church after he was diagnosed with an incurable cancer: “God is bigger than cancer.” Her comment was one that began to remove what he calls “the fog”: a limited view of his future. The fog hindered his once wide-open view of the possibilities after receiving the diagnosis. Being there for things like his children’s growth, high school experience, and other milestones were shaken. He could no longer assume he would enjoy those events.

Billings shares how he wrestled with questions of existentialism and theology that awoke with the reality of disturbingly less than ideal “chances” of seeing his daughters’ futures. Why would God end his life and do this to his children? Affirming that God doesn’t owe us anything, Billings still believed that he shouldn’t receive such a diagnosis with “stoic fatalism” (10). He used several Scriptures to support that death ultimately stands in the way of YHWH being God over his people, and in the end it will be overcome (1 Cor 15:25-26; Rev 21:3). The Psalms, particularly those of lament, provided encouragement and support for him. Quoting Calvin’s preface to his Psalms commentary, Billings reflects that the Holy Spirit uses psalms of lament to draw us before the face of God amidst “all the distracting emotions with which the minds of men are wont to be agitated” (14).

I enjoyed Chapter 2 where Billings wrestled with the problem of evil. Billings’ reflections on the book of Job were insightful and helpful. He believes that we simply are not given an ultimate answer to the problem of evil. All the suffering Job experienced was not due to sin (Joh 9:2-3). When Job lays his case before God, God responds with four chapters of his freedom in “creating the world and the huge distance between God’s viewpoint and human understanding” (26). One thing we do know is that suffering requires a response from the people of God. Billings so eloquently states that “unjust suffering is a scandal, and we should cry out to God in our hearts with our compassionate action” (30). This reminds me that when one part of the body suffers, the healthy members gather round (1 Cor 12:26).

As Billings suffered through treatment and its’ painful side affects, he shares how he held onto and repeated prayers such as Psalms 27. His hope was centered on life with God, but there was “nothing automatic about trusting and hoping in God” (38). Attributing the insight to Augustine, Billings discusses that by praying the Psalms we come into alignment with the right way of looking at lament and the right things in which to be joyful. I resonated with this section on what is referred to as lectio divina; practiced as early as Origen and used by other church fathers such as Augustine and St. Ambrose. But even in Judaism, the Psalms were committed to memory and used in public worship. Billings’ appreciation for this has deeply historic roots. He refreshingly suggests that appreciation for the Psalms of lament have unfortunately not been used in our contemporary worship as much as they should. An overarching theme in all 150 Psalms is that of “loving faithfulness” (49). Billings draws the connection that lamenting Psalms bring our hearts before God in expectation of his loving, covenant faithfulness. It subsequently opens our eyes to see all the ways that God demonstrates his faithfulness.

It is because of this faithfulness, Billings illustrates in Chapter 4, that we question God when we experience suffering. It is because we believe that he is sovereign that we cry out to him. I thought this was helpful. Since we know all good things flow from the Lord, when good things are not flowing we naturally question why (59). I think one of the most important observations Billings makes is that Scripture teaches there are other agents acting against the will of God: “God is not the sole actor in the world” (62). We are in the midst of God making his enemies his footstool. Though Billings doesn’t make the connection in the book, I think this ties well with God’s sovereignty and our trust because we cannot comprehend all that is involved in God’s final victory over his enemies. Billings, however, illustrates that since God works through means such as other people (63), it can be prideful to assume that God always works in direct ways. God is not active in a way that leaves humanity inactive.

I also resonated with Billings’ discussion of when people die. Often others respond that God has called them home. This doesn’t properly illustrate what is truly happening. This phrase is especially used when the person who has died is young. An 8-year-old boy dying of cancer, for example, is hardly God’s ideal or his wishes for his creation. This person did not “slip through God’s fingers” somehow (66) or was not torn from his family for God’s own delight. We struggle with the powers of the darkness of this age (76). We trust in God’s goodness and through those terrible occurrences and in his wisdom that is beyond our understanding. “Hardened hearts become tender as we hope in God’s covenant promise” (77).

Billings discusses the problem of good in the next couple chapters. There are not only evils in the world, but also very good things that we enjoy. Who do we thank for this life we have been given? This creation we enjoy? How about our spouses? Children? If events are simply by chance or simply the way things are, such as the position some take toward the problem of evil, why is there so much that mankind wants to praise and celebrate? Who are we going to thank for the blessed and dear things such as watching our children giggle and blow bubbles, Billings asks for example (94). This was another helpful discussion in the book that I enjoyed.

I thought that Billings did a good job showing his perspective that death is a part of our story with God. It is another thing we walk through and experience in our relationship with God. Though some experiences with death, such as that occurs with cancer victims or accidents with young children, seem senseless, Billings reflects that “the gospel is good news that is big enough to incorporate and envelop our dying and death, even when it seems senseless” (107).

In the final chapters, Billings goes into detail about prayer and seeking quick fixes. Our requests for healing to be immediate and direct may not be in line with the timetable in which God operates (112). “The culmination of Christ’s kingdom in the end will make things right…but while Scripture testifies that God will make all things right…the Bible doesn’t promise that the resurrected in glory will know all the answers to our present questions” (187-188). Billings summarizes that the full restoration of God’s creation has not yet come, and while we experience tastes of the life to come we wait with groaning and protest against the enemies of that harmony.

Anyone interested in the subject matter of suffering, healing, the problem of evil, and how to navigate through the challenges that health concerns create will find this book helpful. I gladly recommend it to the church.

[Ben Simmons · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this in connection with some of Billings other books (namely his work on participation in Calvin, and his shorter book Union with Christ). That made reading this already very interesting book a much richer experience. To see the connections between Billings capacious brand of Reformed theology, providence, the Psalms, and his own story of suffering was like watching a master at work.

More personally, I read this at a time when I needed to see that orthodox, confessional Reformed tradition, usually so confident in its doctrinal outlook, could "limp" like Jacob after wrestling God. Luther's theology of the cross gives his writing, especially about suffering, this character, and it was something (probably from lack of exposure) I just had not seen much in Reformed world. The stereotype of Reformed blog-bros arguing in favor of their favorite pastor or confessional soap box issue is somewhat based in reality, and this book was a good reminder for me that the purpose of theology is godly living, and that Reformed theology at its best is oriented to that end.

[Joan Buell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Redefining where our hope lies

I am a retired Hospice nurse. Seven months ago, my 49 year old son-in-law died just ten months after being diagnosed with cancer. He was a believer and follower of Christ, and this had informed the way he lived and the way he died. The support from our community and our church was tremendous, as they surrounded him, my daughter, and their three young adult children. Many churches - ours included - struggle, however, in knowing how to pray. It seems we focus only on praying for complete healing. To do less seems a betrayal of faith. Although we never stop desiring a cure, as time goes on and the disease progresses and the one who is ill becomes tired, we don't know how to still stand with the person and family. This book helps to see how important it can be to lament with them, to cry out to God, to redirect our hope, to use the Psalms of lament as an expression of faith. It will help pastors, churches, family and friends.

[Josh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lament is not something we think about much in our culture. However, lament is all over the Scriptures and I found Billings book to be very helpful to think through lament. He speak about lament as one who was and is lamenting his diagnosis of incurable cancer. The book is honest, raw, real, and helpful. We learn about lament not from one who has simply studied lament, but from one who is lamenting. It is authentic. The book is also Biblical and causes the reader to consider who God is. It doesn't offer trite answers, but instead teaches how to lament before the face of God. Billings seeks to help us see the truth of who God is- as it only in light of who God is that one can truly lament. This book is accessible to all, but it is not fluffy or light. I would commend this book to anyone who wants to grow in learning about lament.

[Hopson · Rating 4 out of 5]

How should a Christian wrestle through the agony of incurable cancer? Some are prone to a hypersupernatural sort of fatalism, praying for direct divine intervention while minimizing the need to trust doctors and medicine. Others lean towards belief in an incompetent God who’s doing the best he can under the circumstances. The biblically faithful option is the pathway of lament.

Billings writes from his own experience wrestling with multiple myeloma at 39, leaving the reader engrossed in a gut-wrenching story of incurable cancer and honest lament to a sovereign yet mysterious God. I really appreciated Billings’ vulnerability throughout the book and I believe it would prove helpful for those walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

[Elijah Brook]

Can’t recommend enough. Our western, consumeristic culture has infiltrated Christian practice to a degree that it goes unrecognized by most. One of many results is that we have little to no biblical understanding of how to deal with the unavoidable reality of suffering.

I’ve listened to many interviews and talks with Dr. Billings over the years and I am thrilled to finally read his work. Phenomenal blend of deep theological insight and personal experience. Certainly cannot wait to read his newest book (The End of the Christian Life) as well as his previous works on Union with Christ and the Lord’s Supper. Themes of both continually run through this book.

Read it.

[Blair · Rating 4 out of 5]

So many good things from this book with the caveat that Billings is a Reformed theologian and both of those perspectives dominate. He is not a theology bro, wielding the Reformed tradition like a weapon. He sensitively and wisely engages the piety of the Psalms through the classics such as Calvin. He does not shy away from his own personal biography (a cancer diagnosis) but these are theological reflections on that. The personal story is not front and center which moves this book decidedly out of the "self-help" or memoir genres. Those who are looking for a rich meditation on the Psalms as the prayer book of the church, leading to rejoicing and lament, will find it in this book.

[Jacob Sabin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think the book could have benefited from being shortened a bit. I did not always feel I was getting Billing's true feelings/thoughts/emotions from excerpts of his online journal he was writing (the difference of writing for an audience compared as if you were writing just for yourself). Being on the Arminian side of theology, there were parts of the his theology where I agreed whole heartedly and some I respectfully differed on. But there is still a wealth of truth from a man who is working through different issues as he lives with incurable cancer. I am not sure if I will re-read, but it was worth a read.

[Barb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Honestly, I haven’t been able to finish this. From the intro, the author says this was written from two perspectives. One as theologian and the other as one who is lamenting in the midst of his terminal illness.

The “lamenting” portion is culled from his journals. Yet, it was these portions I found lacking, not authentic (or not lamenting as I lament). It felt as if he was holding back.

The author’s theological perspective is right ion biblically and it was here I gained much encouragement, but I was disappointed in the rest of the book.

[Jonathan Markham · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thought Provoking

As someone who has in the past suffered from cancer this book was challenging and fascinating. An extraordinary combination of biography and theology in reading it we are forced to think not only of the emotions and physical pain that comes with an illness of this type but also with the theological challenges of reconciling a loving and all powerful God with the incredibly broken world in which we live. I would heartily recommend anyone who struggles with these issues (and who doesn’t) to take the time to read this book

[Kari · Rating 5 out of 5]

So, so good. This book was referenced in another book on Lament that I read, and I'm glad I took the time to read this one as well. It got a little heady at some points, but the rest is so good, it's worth pushing trough. He weaves theology and his own story of being diagnosed with incurable cancer at age 39. But this book is not just people impacted by cancer. It's about how we can all find our lives in Christ and rejoice in lament- whatever life throws our way.

[Unchong Berkey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rejoicing in Lament weaves the author’s online journal entries where he shared updates on his cancer treatments with his theological wrestlings about God and suffering. I appreciate the tone of authentic grappling (no trite answers or simplistic conclusions) while clinging to and engaging with God. He has incurable cancer that requires daily chemo pills and lives with the reality that his cancer most certainly will return.