Lament as worship

“Grief work is soul work.” — Francis Weller

Lament. The word itself is comforting. Almost lyrical, it seems to welcome us.

Or at least, it’s there when you need it. Open arms, a cup of tea, a soft blanket. Saying, “It’s OK to cry.”

Lament : to express sorrow, mourning, or regret for often demonstratively : MOURN

I grew up in a high control religion that didn’t allow much for lament.

Joy comes in the morning. Cast your cares upon the Lord. Everything happens for a reason. God won’t give you more than you can handle. Be anxious for nothing!

The cognitive dissonance of this in the face of Psalms (and a book of the Bible literally called Lamentations) has always astounded me.

I wanted to shout, “lament is worship!”

Which leads me to my point, which I’m calling the ministry of lament.

‘What is a ministry?’

One of my good friends asked me this question, and I loved it because I had to stop and think. What IS a ministry anyway? The dictionary isn’t a lot of help here. Or it is, but it’s quite literal: the office, duties, or functions of a minister. Sure.

I think a ministry is something that meets the needs of another person or community. Even better if it also meets the needs of the one doing the ministering.

The ministry of lament is being. It’s presence. Simply put, lament allows.

Difficult feelings, hard questions, confusion, anger, bad vibes. It’s all allowed, every little bit.

The art of enduring by Jan Richardson

This blessing
can wait as long
as you can.

Longer.

This blessing
began eons ago
and knows the art
of enduring.

This blessing
has passed
through ages
and generations,
witnessed the turning
of centuries,
weathered the spiraling
of history.

This blessing
is in no rush.

This blessing
will plant itself
by your door.

This blessing
will keep vigil
and chant prayers.

This blessing
will bring a friend
for company.

This blessing
will pack a lunch
and a thermos
of coffee.

This blessing
will bide
its sweet time

until it hears
the beginning
of breath,
the stirring
of limbs,
the stretching,
reaching,
rising

of what had lain
dead within you
and is ready
to return.

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