Changed in the Waiting
Those Who Mourn
December 4, 2024
SCRIPTURE
ROMANS 12:9-21
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Share with the Lord’s people who are in need.
Practice hospitality.
Rejoice with those who rejoice;
mourn with those who mourn.
—ROMANS 12:12-13, 15
ROMANS 12:9-21
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Share with the Lord’s people who are in need.
Practice hospitality.
Rejoice with those who rejoice;
mourn with those who mourn.
—ROMANS 12:12-13, 15
The journey of waiting, hoping, and lamenting is not merely an individual enterprise. As people who embody the hope and love of Christ, we are united with all Christians praying, rejoicing, and mourning together. But if we can’t make space for our own lament, we will struggle to join in the lament of others. And when we are unable to mourn, we risk doing harm to the body of Christ and the witness of the church.
Admittedly, U.S. Christians are not so good at practicing collective lament. Our music, our bestselling books, and our most popular sermon series reveal we are much more comfortable focusing on happy things. But if we have ears to hear, there are cries of lament going up all around us. Are we paying attention? Do we hear the cries of our brothers and sisters of color lamenting the ongoing destruction caused by racism in our nation? Do we hear the wailing of parents whose children have been lost to the steady uptick of gun violence? Can we listen to the pain a family carries due to their loved one’s mental illness? Have we heard the lament of the single mom desperately trying to keep her family together?
Many of us struggle to enter the deep grief of others because we have no idea how to fix the problems that cause the grief. But when we study Lamentations and the psalms of lament, we realize those who practice lament are not looking for quick fixes or immediate answers. It is completely counterintuitive in our high-achieving, results-driven culture, but lament is not focused on fixing the problem; it is focused on correctly naming the problem. In lament we confess to the truth, fully agreeing with God and one another about the way things are: no masks, no hiding, no whitewashing over the ugly spots.
The very same coin holds the other side of the truth: when we agree with God on all that is wrong, we are invited to join God in seeing, waiting on, and working toward what is right. In our waiting, we become more convinced than ever that we do need saving—not only as individuals but also as the whole collective of creation and humanity. And we are equally convinced that there is only One who can do it. Our collective pain will not be assuaged by anything less than God’s way of justice, peace, healing, and freedom. Our lament becomes a prayer of words and deeds: May your kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in heaven!
Sometimes mourning with those who mourn does look like showing up to the hospital and weeping alongside someone. I have received the healing power of this gift, and I hope you have too. Other times it means listening to a person whose life experiences are totally different from your own, while acknowledging that their pain and grief are worth your attention. It might look like watching the news through the lens of love and praying with or at least for the individuals whose pain makes the headlines. Sometimes it looks like going out of your way to sit with the newly divorced woman at church instead of letting her sit alone.
In joining the weeping lament of others, we give witness to a grand and glorious hope that is far greater than merely putting on a happy face.
When we choose to weep with someone whose pain doesn’t have to affect our lives, we showcase the light and love of Christ that are present with us even in the darkest places. When we show up in another's painful season of waiting, their struggle becomes ours, and ours become theirs, and the hope of Christ is strengthened in us both.
Admittedly, U.S. Christians are not so good at practicing collective lament. Our music, our bestselling books, and our most popular sermon series reveal we are much more comfortable focusing on happy things. But if we have ears to hear, there are cries of lament going up all around us. Are we paying attention? Do we hear the cries of our brothers and sisters of color lamenting the ongoing destruction caused by racism in our nation? Do we hear the wailing of parents whose children have been lost to the steady uptick of gun violence? Can we listen to the pain a family carries due to their loved one’s mental illness? Have we heard the lament of the single mom desperately trying to keep her family together?
Many of us struggle to enter the deep grief of others because we have no idea how to fix the problems that cause the grief. But when we study Lamentations and the psalms of lament, we realize those who practice lament are not looking for quick fixes or immediate answers. It is completely counterintuitive in our high-achieving, results-driven culture, but lament is not focused on fixing the problem; it is focused on correctly naming the problem. In lament we confess to the truth, fully agreeing with God and one another about the way things are: no masks, no hiding, no whitewashing over the ugly spots.
The very same coin holds the other side of the truth: when we agree with God on all that is wrong, we are invited to join God in seeing, waiting on, and working toward what is right. In our waiting, we become more convinced than ever that we do need saving—not only as individuals but also as the whole collective of creation and humanity. And we are equally convinced that there is only One who can do it. Our collective pain will not be assuaged by anything less than God’s way of justice, peace, healing, and freedom. Our lament becomes a prayer of words and deeds: May your kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in heaven!
Sometimes mourning with those who mourn does look like showing up to the hospital and weeping alongside someone. I have received the healing power of this gift, and I hope you have too. Other times it means listening to a person whose life experiences are totally different from your own, while acknowledging that their pain and grief are worth your attention. It might look like watching the news through the lens of love and praying with or at least for the individuals whose pain makes the headlines. Sometimes it looks like going out of your way to sit with the newly divorced woman at church instead of letting her sit alone.
In joining the weeping lament of others, we give witness to a grand and glorious hope that is far greater than merely putting on a happy face.
When we choose to weep with someone whose pain doesn’t have to affect our lives, we showcase the light and love of Christ that are present with us even in the darkest places. When we show up in another's painful season of waiting, their struggle becomes ours, and ours become theirs, and the hope of Christ is strengthened in us both.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION, DISCUSSION, AND PRAYER
When has someone mourned with you when you were mourning?
Who is lamenting around you—whether locally, nationally, or globally?
How is God inviting: you to join in the lament of others right now?
When has someone mourned with you when you were mourning?
Who is lamenting around you—whether locally, nationally, or globally?
How is God inviting: you to join in the lament of others right now?