“How long, O Lord?” How long? Ever ask that question? Most of us have, since this virus began Friday, March 13.

“How long, O Lord.” Familiar words from the beginning of the 13th Psalm, one of those marvelous bits of biblical insight we have come to call the “Psalms of Lament.” In fact almost half of the Psalms fall into this category.

Laments are found, not only in the Book of Psalms, they are part and parcel of the biblical witness – humanity cries out, mourns, wails, weeps. God hears the cries of his suffering children, and is moved to action.

There is even one Old Testament book called Lamentations. The ancient writers regularly expressed their deepest feelings – words of praise at times; at others, there were heartfelt questions: “Why, God, Why?”

If you look at them carefully, you will see a pattern:

1. They begin by naming God in INTIMATE ADDRESS (“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me…”) – The situation is not being shared with a stranger; you do not vent to someone you do not know but one who cares.

2. There is a COMPLAINT. It tells God with some specificity what the matter is.

3. Next comes the PETITION. What do you want God to do? And often, it is phrased with an imperative, a demand. God’s power is not in doubt, but God’s attention to this particular problem.

4. A word of MOTIVATION. Why should God bother? There might be appeals to virtue, precedent, honor or even divine vanity.

6. Finally, when the hurt or anger is fully vented, something unexpected happens. The speaker is, at the end, ASSURED OF BEING HEARD and “dealt with bountifully.”

7. That then is followed by a word of PRAISE.

And now with this framework of the psalms of lament, let’s listen again to Psalm 13. “How long, O Lord, how long?”

The tortured question of the cancer sufferer after the most recent bouts of chemotherapy that seemed to work, but suddenly the blood counts are saying that the cancer is back.

“Will you forget me forever?” asks the father who has done and done and done for his drug-addicted son after bailing him out of jail for the umpteenth time.

 “How long will you hide your face from me?” cries the mother of the severely special needs child who has done everything she could to provide compassionate care but now hears that her husband wants a divorce.

Verse 2: “How long must I bear pain in my soul … And every day have sorrow in my heart?” asks the mother in Jacksonville who has lost two sons in the never-ending drug wars.

“How long will my enemy triumph over me?” asks the Palestinian Christian who is the third generation to be forced to live in a refugee camp despite this being the land of his ancestors for a hundred generations.

Verse 3: “Look on me and answer, O Lord my God!” Prays the despairing parent of an adult child suffering from a debilitating mental illness.  Every day brings on a new struggle and suffering but the parent’s love and faith keeps them moving forward.  But the weight on the caregiver begins to crush them and they feel they cannot go on, they cry out: “Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,” “Lord, this is KILLING me!”

Verse 4: “My enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’ and my foes will rejoice when I fall.” The good Christian Police Officers who are being castigated by the evil done by the bad cops.  I admire the courage of those who continue to serve, risking their lives to protect the citizens–like our own Niccole and Ken. 

Now we come to verses 5 and 6 and suddenly, a change. We hear, “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.”

Yes, here is that shift we spoke of earlier. Read it this way: “My enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him’ and my foes will rejoice when I fall.” SIGH!

“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.”

You see, in between verses 4 and 5, something changes. It is the arrival of hope that is born of memory.

Yes, things are AWFUL, but I can remember a time when they were NOT awful, when God’s care for me was much more evident, and I am convinced that such a day will come again.

It seems to me that the church, when it is at its best, lives its life between verses 4 and 5. We hear that deep SIGH when words cannot come.

We hear the laments from both within and without as people feel free and safe to speak to their anguish.

All by itself, that listening ear helps the healing process because, as psychotherapy has taught us, there is catharsis in voicing the pain. Between verses 4 and 5 tears are shed, because when the church is at its best, we rejoice with those who rejoice, but we also weep with those who weep. Between verses 4 and 5 we remember the despair of Good Friday that was answered by the delight of Easter.

Between verses 4 and 5 is where the church finds its most meaningful life.

Sad to say, we are awfully good at promoting denial though – we would rather skip verses 1, 2, 3, and 4.

“How are you?” “Fine.” The expected response even when our heart’s cry is “How long, O Lord,” and life is going to hell in a handbasket.

My Friends this is not good, nor is this God’s intention for you and the faith community.

And now we come to the Lord’s Supper. Christ makes room at his Table for damaged hearts and scarred souls. We bring our lamentations as well as our sins, so we might be healed and assured of God’s presence.

For, in the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life, there is a deafening alleluia rising from the souls of those who weep, and of those who weep with those who weep. If you watch, you will see the hand of God putting the stars back in their skies one by one. A promise of healing and wholeness.

“Through Tears – With Hope.” That is the church. My friends, that is Life between verses 4 and 5. Amen.

Pastoral Prayer

Dear God, gather us in, the lost and lonely, the faithful and the doubting, the fervent and the apathetic. Gather each of us into your arms and hold us for these moments while we give you thanks for the delights in our lives and confide those troubles that nag us.

God, thank you for the comforts of shelter, nourishing food, employment, and security. We enjoy all these delights in life and are aware that others struggle each day for some sense of security.

Thank you for the extravagance of family and friends who love us, for communities where lives flourish, warm summer days, cool breezes, and refreshing waters. May we never take for granted all the ways our lives are filled with such goodness.

God, you tell us not to be afraid of what the future holds, not to worry about tomorrow, but you know this is difficult. For there are so many things, our families, our friends, our circumstances that we value but seem at risk. Some who love are failing to illness, addiction, or careless behavior. Jobs are tough.

Relationships can be fraught with tensions. Our choices to follow Jesus’ teachings or give in to the easy fix weigh heavy in our hearts but not often enough in our minds. Some of our worries are for trifles that we should just cast off. We come before you this day with these big and tiny worries, and with confidence we know we can lay them all at your feet.

Our world erupts with continual violence in towns that are continents away and in our own backyard. We know people in our world are treated as less than human, exploited, tortured, helpless, and abused—women, children, those that are different, those that are beautiful and brave. Shelter those who are marginalized from the terrors that seek to limit their lives.

God, we know that you are concerned with every aspect of our lives and, in the privacy of our hearts, we lift them to you now:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.