Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament

by Mark Vroegop

Lament rises from a firm belief in the character of God, an understanding of the brokenness of sin, and a heartfelt longing for the completion of God’s redemptive plan. That’s why lament is inherently Christian. Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.

you can use lament to redirect your heart.

Lament is never a song you set out to sing. But in the discovery of lament, everyone can find grace for the pains of life.

The music of our churches both reflects and shapes the hearts of our people. Unfortunately, lament is virtually absent in most of our singing. This is not a new problem. The trend is concerning. Soong-Chan Rah, in his book Prophetic Lament, cites a study of hymnals and their use of lament. It revealed that lament makes up less than 20 percent of Presbyterian and Baptist hymnals.5 When one looks at the contemporary songs reflected through the copyright licenses (CCLI), the tracking of songs most frequently sung by churches, the trend is even more concerning. I surveyed recent songs in 2016 and 2017. The number of lament-oriented songs was well below 5 percent. Despite the fact that at least a third of the Psalms are in a minor key, it seems that “the American church avoids lament.”6 Now I don’t mean to lay the blame solely on worship pastors and musicians. The absence of lament is not entirely their fault. But as I’ve talked with our worship leaders about this, we’ve wondered together what it would look like to recapture the balance of the Psalms in the songs we write today. I’m not arguing for one out of every three songs, but I do hope that some creative musicians will take up this challenge to bring balance to our corporate worship diet. We need good, substantive songs of lament. My guess, however, is that contemporary songs of lament may not be sung frequently until the American church feels the full weight of our exile. But maybe we could start writing songs with lamen...

For those of us who have not experienced pain or unfair treatment because of our ethnicity, lament can be the language we use to weep with those who weep (Rom. 12:15). It allows our first voice—our first step—to be one of compassion. We can turn to God in prayer and join our minority brothers and sisters in their pain. We can identify the brokenness in our world, mourn the racial tensions that still exist, and offer our “complaint” to God about the history of injustice, misunderstanding, and racism. Together we can ask God for healing and for kindness in our hearts. Rather than allowing racial tension to drive a wedge between us or to frighten us into silence, lament can invite all of us on a journey toward seeking God’s grace together.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not naive enough to believe that lament is the single solution for racial tension. There is much work to be done in listening, understanding, addressing injustice, and fostering hope. But I do think lament is a starting point—a place where people from majority and minority backgrounds can meet. The beauty of this biblical language of sorrow is its ability to provide a bridge robust enough to handle outrage and empathy, frustration and faith, fear and hope. Lament can be our first step toward one another when racial tension could drive a wedge.

Believers in Jesus are called to walk the path between earthly brokenness and heavenly restoration. Lament is our song for this journey.