Grief becomes dangerous when a subtle shift occurs moving us from a posture of mourning to questioning God’s goodness. I crossed a thin line as I cried out to God in painful lament. Forced into a difficult relational situation, which seems irrevocably broken; my grief over hurtful words spoken, futility in being misunderstood, and loss of my hope for reconciliation, drove me to lament the hopelessness ravaging my soul.
“Grief is good when it mourns what God hates, but it’s dangerous when it questions God’s goodness and love.” ~ Paul David Tripp
What better place for finding language for my lament than the psalms? Like many others I turn to the psalms for comfort, words of praise, adoration, and lament.
Well.
Sourcing my lament language in the psalms also helps break the endless hopelessness of the narrative playing in my head. Grabbing my bible, I turned to Psalm 73; here are a few selected verses expressing my felt anguish:
But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled, my steps had nearly slipped. For I was envious of the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For they have no pangs until death; their bodies are fat and sleek. They are not in trouble as others are; they are not stricken like the rest of mankind…Behold, there are the wicked; always at ease, they increase in riches. All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence. when I was pricked in heart, For all the day long have I been stricken and rebuked every morning…When my soul was embittered, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you.
(Psalm 73:2-5, 12-14, 21-22)
Following Asaph’s lead, I rehearsed my own pain before God. Travailing as with fresh wounds with each detailed account, my grief poured forth in uncontrolled weeping. Inflicting deep pain, the injustices resulting from the refusal of the other person to hear my concerns or allow an alternate perspective, fueled apathy on my part towards repairing the breach.
All of which contributed to my feeling much like a caged bird longing to sing, but suffering relentless stabs through the bars of my cage. No way out, and no way forward.
Sliding further into lament, I felt all aspirations for the future within this relationship torn from my grasp, leaving a bitter emptiness. Not the type of relationship from which you walk away, or allow a slow fade to a sad end, facing a future of hostile resentment and retaliation, adorned with the broken shreds of hope left me doubting my ability for enduring such a bleak outlook.
At the risk of sounding a tad over dramatic, I recorded my desperate thoughts in their raw form to convey the level of lament that washed over my soul in the wake of my unabated suffering, and God’s answering silence. Though enduring deep suffering on more than one occasion, when sharing that suffering in my writing I tend toward a more antiseptic version, given my professed faith in God.
If, like me, you also profess allegiance to Christ, you may feel the same need to convey a sanitized version of your pain. After all, with all of heaven’s resources at our fingertips, we suffer not as the heathen do, without hope.
Besides what will people say?
Yet, these verses in Psalm 73 convey the raw lament of a desperate and hopeless individual attempting to make sense of their suffering. And worse, to make sense of it in light of the perceived prosperity and lack of suffering in those who ignore God. Indeed Asaph, the author of this psalm mourns from the depth of his grief.
But it is a dangerous grief. A grief full of questions for God. The wrong kind of questions. Not only is Asaph’s pain raw and “unsanitized”, but he also questions God’s goodness, wisdom, and love.
We have all been there, enduring unrelenting suffering amid what seems like silence from God, while we watch others living the “good life”. Like Asaph, we cry out, “I’ve honored God, given my life to serve Him, and this is the outcome?” Those were not my thoughts as I lamented to God, but as I reflected later, my thoughts held the nuance of them. My grief had become the dangerous grief of one who questioned God’s goodness and choices for them rather than trusting His loving Father’s heart.
As with all of the Christian life, even in grief, the living of that life demands trust. Suffering produces grief, which often leads to confusion and the need to find purpose in our pain and loss. Our grief steps over a dangerous line becoming mired in a slog of questions moving us further from trusting the loving God who redeems our pain.
When our grief turns dangerous, threatening our trust in God, we must run headlong into the arms of His goodness rather than questioning its existence.
Three ways we turn our dangerous grief into proper lament:
Commune with God in the secret place. As we pour out our lament before God, we allow our hearts to commune with His transforming our narrow, self-focused perspective into one able to see the truth as it is, not as we are. (Psalm 73:17)
Contemplate where the path ends for those who ignore God regardless of how good their life seems now. Consider how God views those who despise His way, and how He views those who trust in Him. Remember the promise of His presence always. (Psalm 73:18-24)
Content yourself with God’s goodness. Meditate on His past faithfulness and His future promises. Choose trusting His unfailing love for you even when you cannot see past your current pain. (Psalm 73:25-26)
May we, with Asaph abandon our questions and need to find purpose in our suffering and loss, choosing instead full trust in His goodness:
“Whom have I in heaven but you? There is no one on earth I desire beside You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:22-26)
If you enjoyed reading this post, there’s more! Sign up for my Substack; a little slice of serenity delivered right to your inbox!
Leave a Reply