Horror, Lament, Comfort, Hope
Last Thursday the unthinkable happened in Bend, Oregon. The word that returns to me on a loop is horror.
Silver Rail Elementary School, a bit over a mile from our house, is closed. No one has said how long it will take and what measures will be needed for students, staff, and parents to feel comfortable enough to return.
Now, it is time for lament.
Tears, anger, questions, fear, and despair are the order of the day since midday Thursday. It seems just about everyone I meet wants to talk about it, and I really don’t. I have no answers. I sit in the dust of the event and try not to talk much.
Well over a third of the Psalms are those of lament where people facing the worst times of their lives cry out for relief, for justice or rescue, for healing, for God just to show up. Lament walks hand in hand with being human. The brokenness of our world does damage everywhere that it surfaces. Lament wails and howls. God sees and hears.
In Psalm 56 David writes,
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.
So, now we grieve loss. But we don’t grieve as though we were alone in this.
On the heels of lament comes small ripples of comfort that grow steadily stronger over time.
In times of crisis throughout history people of faith have looked to the God who made them for answers, for ways to make sense of the senseless. While well-meaning people might feel urged to speak for God, rarely are answers found from God himself. What we have is an ongoing message of comfort in the midst of the unimaginable.
The theme of comfort runs through the Book, since troubled times come hand-in-hand with living. Remember, it was Jesus who said,
“In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” and in the Beatitudes, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
After Israel endures a harsh 39 chapters in Isaiah, ch.40 begins with “Comfort, comfort my people.” Then, as if underlying God’s commitment to be close, in 41:10 it reads,
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Lean into your sadness and grief. Ask your questions. Cry out. In no way does it betray your faith, rather it embeds your faith into the fabric of life. Just as Jesus cried and howled at the grave of Lazarus, even knowing how it would turn out, we mourn.
But then we remember.
God the Spirit’s mission today, now, in moments like this is to comfort with his presence. While we don’t know why this happened, we trust in God going forward. The comfort of God reminds us that this not-yet-glory life we live will be redeemed.
In the darkest days we crawl into Abba Father’s lap and just be. Listen for his whisper that he’s got this. Allow his love to wash over you. Ask that you would know his comfort well enough to comfort others. That’s what Paul was getting at in 2 Corinthians 1:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Chris, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.
Please, friend, eliminate platitudes and cliches from your conversations. No preaching, just be with others who struggle. No feeling the need to defend God, but sitting in the dust together pointing to Jesus like a child. Comfort others with the same comfort we received.
But we don’t leave it there. Hope is our calling card.
In both the Hebrew Bible and the Greek New Testament the concept of hope is tightly tied to firm expectations that God will do his will and make all things right. It has nothing to do with wishful thinking, rather, working from the character of God, it looks through any circumstance to a firm, anticipated conclusion.
Hope is, for believers, our anchor. Listen to the end of Hebrews 6:
Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls.
What does it mean to hope in God? It means placing our trust in his character—his faithfulness, his love, and his sovereignty. It means taking a deep breath and reminding ourselves that God is God and we are not. It doesn’t mean someday soon it will all make sense. It rarely does.
But hope throws all our anxieties, sadness and all the rest onto him. Peter, who knew his share of life reversals, said this in his letter to new-ish believers
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
You aren’t built to carry such a load. Cast, toss, hurl, shot-put ALL your load on him. Our hope is that his care will carry both our burden as well as us in our darkest days.
Horror. Lament. Comfort. Hope.
Cry out as your heart leads. Don’t become numb to the madness of this event and of our world. Your Jesus is strong enough to stand before you and not turn away.
Crawl up into Abba Father’s lap. Imagine it. Warm. Reassuring. Secure in his presence. Ask for the comfort to come, then for chances to share it with others.
Look to the future when all will be made right. No tears or loss. Hope that all, all will be redeemed and made new because of the great love God has for us.
Grieving with you, al
Music for the week is background stuff you might find worthwhile.
Sorry, no jokes this week.