Lenten Lament

Mark 1:9-15
9In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
12And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
14Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

Psalm 77
1to the leader: according to Jeduthun, of Asaph. A Psalm
I cry aloud to God, aloud to God that he may hear me.
2In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.
3I think of God, and I moan; I meditate, and my spirit faints. Selah
4You keep my eyelids from closing; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
5I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.
6I commune with my heart in the night; I meditate and search my spirit:
7”Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?
8Has his steadfast love ceased forever? Are his promises at an end for all time?
9Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah
10And I say, “ It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.”
11I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old.
12I will meditate on all your work, and muse on your mighty deeds.
13Your way, O God, is holy. What god is so great as our God?
14You are the God who works wonders; you have displayed your might among the peoples.
15With your strong arm you redeemed your people, the descendants of Jacob and Joseph. Selah
16When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; the very deep trembled.
17The clouds poured our water; the skies thundered; your arrows flashed on every side.
18The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook.
19Your way was through the sea, your path, through the mighty waters; yet your footprints were unseen.
20You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God.

"I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.”

We've stood on the banks of the Jordan and watched our Lord come up out of the water. We've heard the words of John the Baptist. We've felt the presence of God as Jesus "saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.'”

“I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.”

We've followed Jesus as he goes on the move following John's arrest. We've joined him as he proclaims “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

“I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.”

But between "You are my Son, the Beloved;" and "believe in the good news" is something new. The Spirit who, like a dove, descended on Jesus immediately drives him out into the wilderness. There's no time for a luncheon after the baptism, no time for pictures to commemorate the holy moment. The immediately of the Spirit makes us wonder if Jesus even stayed for the closing hymn, or if right after his experience of God the Father he was driven out.

“I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.” This passage starts with baptism and ends with proclaiming the good news. But for now, we are living in the middle, in the wilderness with the wild beasts.

Why would a father drive his beloved son into the Wilderness? Maybe God wants us to know that struggle and pain are part of our existence. We are not in the garden, we’re lost in the wilderness.

The season of Lent is a time in the church year when we remember what it’s like to be out in the wilderness, mirroring the temptation of Jesus, the Babylonian exile, and the wandering of the Israelites on the way to the promised land. Lent is a time of reflection, penitence, and lament.

The Lenten Lament lies in the shadow of the cross. We walk for a time in darkness so that we can be blinded by the light of Easter morning. As we walk through the wilderness of Lenten Lament, we know the empty tomb is just over the horizon. “I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.” We know how the story ends. But we're living in the middle of the story now, in the wilderness for forty days. The only horizon we can see is the place called the skull, where in fewer than 40 days Christ our Lord will die. We cannot see what is coming, and at some points in our Lenten Lament, we cannot see what God is doing around us right now.

So we join the Psalmist in raising our lament to God. “I cry aloud to God, aloud to God that he may hear me.In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. I think of God, and I moan; I meditate, and my spirit faints. Selah.”

Psalms of Lament, like the ones we’ll be studying this Lent, are a powerful gift. They give us the freedom to challenge God when our expectation of God and our experience of the world do not match up. Lament gives us the permission to “cry aloud to God, aloud to God that he may hear me.” For we know that "...true believers, when overwhelmed with sorrow, do not continue in a state of unvarying uniformity, but sometimes give vent to sighs and complaints, while, at other times, they are silent as if their mouths were stopped.” Psalms of lament let us speak to and about God when our hearts are broken. They express the heartache we feel, but cannot express in “polite” settings. 

“You keep my eyelids from closing; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago. I commune with my heart in the night; I meditate and search my spirit: ”Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love ceased forever? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

The words of Psalm 77 challenge God, and challenge us. They are for those who struggle with God and with the state of the world. These are not expressions for a stoic, polite, church. “…in proper religion the expression should not be expressed. But it is also the case the these experiences should not be experienced." Yet we experience them anyway. We go through trauma and heartache and despair and violence. Even though that's not how it should be, it's how it is, and we can't ignore it without transforming the church of Christ's crucifixion into a vapid hallmark card. We look into the darkness of our experience and our "soul refuses to be comforted." So we direct the full force of our lament to God, who rules over all our experience, not just the happy fun parts. “I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.”

But Lenten Lament is more than wilderness weeping.

“And I say, ‘It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.’ I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old. I will meditate on all your work, and muse on your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is so great as our God? You are the God who works wonders; you have displayed your might among the peoples. With your strong arm you redeemed your people, the descendants of Jacob and Joseph. Selah"

The whole of creation is subject to God’s sovereignty, including our grief. God takes our wilderness weeping and gives us the hope to affirm our faith even through clenched jaws and bitter tears. God does not abandon us to our grieving, rather, “It is my grief that the hand of the Most High has changed.” We are able to walk through Lent together, and also times when our heartache doesn’t fit on a liturgical calendar, because we remember who our God is, and that even when we are driven into the wilderness, God does not leave us there forever. “I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old.”

I attended a couple of funerals this week, and in those sermons I got to hear beautiful melding of lament and hope. “I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old.” One funeral followed a brief and sudden illness, and the preacher brought up the problem of God's providence in the face of sudden and tragic death. She pointed out that when God's providence doesn't look like what we want, God can take our choice words, our disbelief, our lament. In fact, God wants to take them. Lament is not a lack of faith, but a confirmation of faith in the God who is beyond our expectations, even if our experience doesn't live up to our expectations.

Most of y’all know that a few years ago, Leah and I were in a long-distance marriage. Her job in Atlanta had dried up, and she’d been offered a position at King’s Mountain National Military Park. It was a great opportunity, a promise of a permanent position in her field, doing what she loves and at which she is so brilliant. But I still had one more year of seminary, and Atlanta and Kings Mountain are several hours apart. They are, and I can tell you this from many commutes, three hours and 26 minutes apart. “I consider the days of old, and remember the years of long ago.” It was a very difficult decision, and a very difficult twelve and a half months, lots of lament over that year. But what kept us holding on was the assurance that just as God had called us to our respective careers, so we were called to be in a unique, covenantal, commitment with one another. It was a pretty awful year, and I was so grateful when my wife was once again my roommate. Our laments were also confession of faith, that God even though God had driven us out into the wilderness, God would not leave us there forever.

“I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember your wonders of old.” Why would a father drive his beloved son into the Wilderness? Maybe the hardship of the wilderness, and learning to live with our discomfort, is an act of love. Maybe the Father drove his beloved Son into the wilderness so that we wouldn’t be out there on our own. 

“When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; the very deep trembled. The clouds poured our water; the skies thundered; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path, through the mighty waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.”

Throughout this season, we will walk through our lament together. We will wander in the wilderness as brothers and sisters in Christ. We will live in the shadow of the cross as a community of faith. “I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD; I will remember [God’s] wonders of old.” We will remember what God has already done for us, through us, and to us, and we will trust that even though God's footsteps are unseen, that God is moving us through the waters still.