the art of lament.

This week has been a big one and I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty exhausted.

Monday and Tuesday morning I spent at University O week, plastering the place in Orange posters, and learning the subtle art of sneaky pegging. And not to brag but, I got pretty good at it. I’ve always thought that if I wasn’t a Christian I would make an excellent thief; my suspicions have only been confirmed these past two days.

But, it was encouraging – I was encouraged, I loved being a part of a team and we did our best to be noticed. And we were at one point - noticed by security, which was nothing I couldn’t fix with some wide teary eyes and a mention of HIV. I may have also unashamedly thrown the word 'orphan' into the argument as well. Needless to say, we were allowed to keep our posters up a few extra days. I was proud to champion Orange HOPE, be part of something bigger then myself, work in fellowship and partnership, and play a little part in something wonderful. 

And then, in the latter half of the week, I took part in two full and wonderful days of cross-cultural missions training, in preparation for Africa and in many ways, for life.

It was wonderful. Not only because I got two precious days off work, but for so many other reasons. I learnt a lot. I was reflecting (probably instead of listening) at the end of day one, and looking around the table at the other people I had only met that very morning, and I thought; my goodness– I feel like I’ve known these people for years. It was the body of Christ at work in this space, bridging gaps between age and situation, abilities, gifts, interests and cultures; it was seamless and beautiful.

We talked about a lot, about airport security, malaria tablets, photography, culture shock, finances, spiritual warfare, paying ransoms, customs and my personal favourite; lament.

The trusty back of my Bible describes lament as a 'cry of grief'.

And that’s what it is. A beautiful, useful and misunderstood Biblical tool for expressing and righteously venting to God you sheer and deep unsatisfaction with the state of the broken world.  And I can’t tell you how helpful this is to me, what freedom and release it brings. 

If you need an example of lament check out Psalm 88. It’s a great example, it’s full of such raw passion and grief, and it isn’t watered down by any ‘praise the Lords’ or ‘Hallelujah’s’. It’s just awful. Wonderfully awful.

And I can’t tell you how often I feel like the writer of this very Psalm. I’m the kind of person who is both easily inspired, and easily devastated. I get defeated all the time by the state of the world. I sob at stories, or images, or situations of hurt, poverty, pain, slums, grief, death, torture, rape, abuse, neglect, slavery, disease, anything and everything that is simply unfair and not good. Almost 100% of the time I cry when other people cry, no matter what the situation is. I get so overwhelmed by statistics, and the sheer number of broken issues that I want to play a part in fixing; famine, war, disaster relief, malnutrition, homelessness, hunger, human trafficking, health care inequality, FGM, abortion, my own life, my own self, the lives of my loved ones; the list is literally endless and sometimes I just get so frustrated with the fact that I can’t do everything, or be everywhere, and there is just too much and it’s just too awful, and I feel lost in that place.

Thank you lament. Lament gives me the right to be upset with the world and righteously vent, to damn my enemies (of sin and Satan only) to awful places. It allows me to take my overwhelming grief and dissatisfaction to God, and process it in that way, at the foot of the cross – instead of trying to handle it by other means of unhelpful escape. It’s a means of being completely honest before my Creator, and having Him meet me, weep with me, teach me and comfort me in that place.

Lament.

And so this week, I’m exhausted, encouraged, excited and defeated.

Three weeks to go.