Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament

by Mark Vroegop

there is something tragically wrong with funerals. I shared that they awaken us to the reality of the brokenness of the world in which we live. I was blunt about the fact that I’d really like my friend Terry to still be alive, and I hated the presence of death in the world.

While grief never left the room, we wrapped the hope of the gospel around our grief. I shared the sovereign and eternal promises connected to the lament of Romans 8 in order to help everyone understand that our grief was bookended in the promises and hope of salvation through Jesus. In other words, Terry’s death was not the final word.

The book of Job shows us the same progression. Job’s innocent suffering and his unhelpful friends led him to a series of complaints. God answered Job out of the whirlwind in chapters 38–41 with a series of questions designed to show him God’s breathtaking majesty and power. Job was left nearly speechless. Here are his own words: I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. . . . I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you. (Job 42:2, 5) The entire book of Job is designed not only to highlight innocent suffering but also to demonstrate that human questions and complaints eventually end in humble worship. Other lament psalms connect trust, singing, and worship together as well. Two examples:

The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning. Ecclesiastes 7:4

The songs of sorrow in the Bible were more than expressions of personal grief. They were designed to help God’s people never forget the lessons birthed out of pain or a crisis.

Lament is not merely an expression of sorrow; it is a memorial.

There’s a sense of relief at one level that your husband, father, and grandpa doesn’t have to live with the affliction of memory loss, confusion, and frailty. Nor do the families and friends have to watch him go through this anymore. Because of the gospel there is a hope of expectation that life’s final chapter has not been written. For the next hour we will open ourselves to overwhelming sorrow in the face of death, the

quiet relief, and the glimmer of hope on the horizon. The other reason we are here today is because “the heart of the wise is in the house of mourning.” Make no mistake friends, this house that we are in today is a house of mourning. We should feel the stunning reality that a human being is no longer with us. A husband is gone. A father is gone. A grandfather is gone. The merry-go-round of our lives has stopped, and we are forced to take a long look at death in the house of mourning. And wisdom can be ours as we face the realities of death and as we listen to the voice of God in this room through his Word.3

I’ve left funerals contemplating how I long for death to be defeated, how much brokenness there is in the world, how quickly time passes, and how grateful I am for the resurrection of Jesus. What’s more, I’ve found myself savoring a family meal more deeply, saying goodnight to my kids with greater meaning, hugging my wife a little longer, or reading my Bible more slowly because I’ve been to the house of mourning.

Those who know the biblical plan of creation-fall-redemption-restoration should be able to walk through moments of sorrow while connecting everything to the bigger story of the holiness of God and the hope of the gospel.

Lamentations was written by the prophet Jeremiah to reflect upon the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BC.

Chapters 1 and 2 were written as an acrostic.

This form is designed to emphasize the comprehensive nature of Jerusalem’s destruction.

In English it is translated as “How.” It can be read as both an expression of shock and a question.

How could this happen? How can God allow this? How can God’s people survive? How do we think about the future? These are the questions you ask when facing the dark clouds of grief.

Central to the pain is the triumph of the enemy. God didn’t intervene.

The blessing of the Lord seems to have been given to the enemies of God’s people.

There is a great tension here connected to the presence of pain and the sovereignty of God. However, it is left unresolved.

Lament doesn’t wait for resolution. It gives voice to the tough questions before the final chapter is written.

the people are facing the judgment of God because of their sin.

she took no thought of her future; therefore her fall is terrible.

According to chapter 2, their leaders were taken captive. There is no access to the Law. The prophets have no word from the Lord. The elders are silent and in mourning. And the young women are weeping (Lam. 2:10). Everywhere you look there is devastation. Brokenness.

methodical and demented

Sin is that bad, and God is that holy.

Sin Is the Real Problem All lament and suffering have their roots in the fallen state of the world. Sorrow and pain owe their beginning to rebellion against God’s reign. Lament interprets all suffering through the lens of the Bible’s understanding of the problem of sin in the world. Now, I’m not suggesting that every negative circumstance or all suffering you experience is directly connected to a specific sin in your life. To be clear: I’m not saying that every painful calamity is a result of your or my bad choices.

While not every suffering may be connected directly to specific sin in your life, it would be a mistake to diminish the connection between the fallen state of the world and pain. The Bible tells us that God is holy and mankind has fallen short of his glory (Rom. 3:23). The result of this sinful rebellion is death (Rom. 6:23). The effect of our collective treason is the groaning of creation under this brokenness (Rom. 8:22). We, along with the entire created order, long for a better day (Rom. 8:23). Therefore, a Christian should understand that beneath every painful aspect of our humanity is the reality of sin. Every death, every war, every injustice, every loss, every hurt, and every tear owe their existence to sin. It has affected everything.

Yes. Sin is everywhere, and has ruined/distorted all of God’s good creation. God never intended or desired death. It is His consequence for the rebellion of mankind (general). And it is a good consequence, because no one wants to live like this forever.

we don’t know why

His plans are mysterious.

For now, we can trust him. But also, Sylvia died because we live in a fallen world affected by sin. Her death and our sadness remind us that we need Jesus to come and make everything right.”

Pain can make a person rather self-focused. Additionally, it’s far too easy to keep the pain of others at a distance. I typically feel little emotion for tragedies that do not affect me directly. I need to be reminded that my pain is not the only pain.

Our collective rebellion against God surfaces in our culture, families, cities, and nations. There are systemic problems within the fabric of our humanity that can be traced to a fundamental brokenness in the world.

leaders fall, scandals shock, or unrighteousness reigns,

instead of casting judgment.

… Casting judgment or calling to account? These three examples are public sins which require public repentance and which revoke leadership rights for those involved. These sins OUGHT to be known, OUGHT to be condemned, OUGHT to be judged. Not with vengeance or expectation that anything can be restored apart from Christ, but we don’t just forgive and forget collectively. That’s not appropriate either….

When the bottom drops out of your family, your culture, your city, or your nation, what do you say? If we are not careful, followers of Jesus can respond with fear, anger, or despair. In so doing we reveal a love affair with our culture. We can act as if we do not know the long arc of biblical history.

angry, fearful, apathetic, or despairing,

I think there are ways to approach this with all of these feelings/emotional responses in a godly way. Emotion isn’t sin. Anger at unrighteousness is the correct, Christian response. Fear can also be an appropriate response. And. Even if we do respond that way. Emotions tell us something about how we perceive the situation. I would argue we do not need to STOP the emotion so much as use it to see what idolatry lives in our heart and where genuine grief is, which we can then pour out to the Lord in lament. But just stopping the emotion is a recipe for spiritual bypassing, which I don’t believe actually leads to any real growth in Christ (and can’t!) because there’s no honesty.

lament unmasked the empty promises.

He uses his song of sorrow to point his heart toward what he knows to be true despite what he sees.

personal and overwhelming. There seems to be no peace or happiness, no endurance or hope (Lam. 3:17–18).

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope. (Lam. 3:21)

Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this.

“Faith is a footbridge that you don’t know will hold you up over the chasm until you’re forced to walk out onto it.”

Tim Keller, in his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering,

We may hear our hearts say, “It’s hopeless!” but we should argue back. We should say, “Well, that depends what you were hoping in. Was that the right thing to put so much hope in?”

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.

“God, I don’t know what you’re doing or why, but I’m going to trust that you’re God and I’m not.”

For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.

God doesn’t delight in the pain of his children.

He’s seeking assurance that this destruction is not pointless. Jeremiah is asking God for help.

Central to this appeal is the feeling of shame. That’s why he says, “See our disgrace” (Lam. 5:1). Have you ever tried to hide your tears? Crying is embarrassing. Hardship is humbling. In Israel’s case, suffering devastated their temple, humiliated their leaders, destroyed their city, and ruined their nation. But instead of running from the shame of sorrow, lament embraces it. Lament looks through the fog for the grace of God’s remembrance.

The full-throttle cataloging of pain sets the context for the call for God to remember. However, it has been my experience that many Christians are uncomfortable with the tension of the long rehearsing of pain combined with the appeal to God’s grace. We tend to hush the recitation of sorrow.