Good Grief

I just read this article about Steven Curtis Chapman’s new record and the journey that brought it about (if you’ve yet to hear the story of the loss of his adopted daughter, read through the article). I was a big fan of his (ok, still am) when I was first learning to play guitar and write songs. I probably could list him as my first guitar teacher because most of what I learned early on came from watching his videos – pausing, rewinding, replaying. I remember clearly how the news of the Chapman family’s tragedy (over a year ago now) hit me in the gut. I had never met any of them or spoken a word to them, yet having watched SCC’s career over the years I felt like I knew him a little bit, as I’m sure so many do. What’s more is the idea that the grief makes for common ground, somehow. When we hear a story like that our humanity instantly and reactively begins putting ourselves in the other person’s shoes and feeling what they feel on some level. I’ve never lost a child, nor any family member by means of a tragedy like that one, but I still feel this odd connection by way of the common human experience of grief. I think in there somewhere is the truth in Paul’s words about “sharing in His suffering”…

As I read through the article and reflected on some of the things he was sharing about his journey, I began to think, “If he attended my church, if this tragedy occurred in my church family…how would I lead worship that next week? How would I lead he and his family in worship?” I don’t ask those questions rhetorically. Of course it would be difficult and painful task, but I mean practically speaking how do we lead people in worship when they’re walking through grief? Have you ever thought about it?

I was struck by this idea when listening to Mike Pilavachi speak at a conference (and later reading his book, “For the Audience of One“) some years ago. He recounted the story of meeting with a mentor who asked him to consider the role of lament in the worship at his church and ministry. Mike shared of how he thought the old fella must have started to lose his mental faculties in his age, and how he lovingly reminded his mentor that the victory had been one, how we were living in the new kingdom and there was no more need for sorrow because of what Jesus had done for us. The old guy stared back at him and said, “Who on earth told you that?”

He went on to remind Mike, as he tells it, that even though Christ’s death has made a way to salvation for us, the Kingdom isn’t fully here yet. We’re still on not home and things are still not the way they’re supposed to be. Until Christ returns and ushers in the new Kingdom we still live in a fallen world with fallen people and the results of sin make for the enduring presence of suffering and grief. Unless and until we are leading our people in worship through those waters we’re only giving them half the story (my paraphrase, of course).

Ouch.

Is there a place for lament in your worship? I’d encourage you to make room for it if there’s not. If you’re looking for a Biblical example, start with Job. “The Lord gives and The Lord takes away; Blessed be the name of The Lord.”

Or maybe Psalm 13:

How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.

We’re leading people to an inauthentic worship experience if all they ever get from us is, “…and now I am happy all the day.” There has to be room for the grieving heart to cry out as David did in this Psalm and say, “How long, God?”. How can we say we’re worshiping in truth in the absence of the very real presence of grief and suffering among the worshipers?

This week at my church we’re exploring the idea of suffering as a spiritual discipline. As I prepare to lead our folks in worship along this theme I’ve been reminded of the importance of this oft-ignored part of the worship spectrum. Is there room for lament in your worship and where you lead? I would encourage you to think about it, read about it and pray about it. Take a walk through the Psalms and look for it. Keep a couple things in mind, however. First of all, this needn’t dominate our worship experience. Certainly, we have much to celebrate and give thanks for, and our time in worship needs to reflect that. That kind of goes with the other thing I think we need to keep in mind when it comes to lament in worship: Dont’ forget the “yets”. What I mean by that is we don’t want to make this about whining and complaining about our own circumstances and sufferings. The point of worship is to glorify God and the focus needs to remain on him. If you look at the examples in the Psalms, they are almost always tied together with a “but” or a “yet” statement about God. Like in Psalm 13 that we just looked at:

But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.

Even in the face of all these complaints and all the grief, the Psalmist models for us a reminder that God is unchanging and He’s worthy of praise whether things are sunshine and lollipops for me or not. There is something powerful in a worshiper who can say, from the depths of despair, “Blessed be the name of The Lord”.

As you explore the role of lament in your worship, check out Tim Hughes’ album “When Silence Falls” for some examples like this one:

“I’ve Had Questions” (When the Tears Fall)
Tim Hughes

I’ve had questions without answers
I’ve known sorrow, I have known pain
But there’s one thing that I’ll cling to
You are faithful, Jesus You’re true

When hope is lost I’ll call You Savior
When pain surrounds I’ll call You Healer
When silence falls You’ll be the song within my heart

In the lone hour of my sorrow
Through the darkest night of my soul
You surround me and sustain me
My defender forevermore

I will praise You, I will praise You
When the tears fall still I will sing to You
I will praise You, Jesus, praise You
Through the suffering still I will sing