Laments

I've always loved singing. Mom tells me that I used to sing about what I could see from the backseat of the car. My lyrics talked about the road that was by the ditch that was by the fence that was by the corn. (Our landscape is stunning in Iowa!)

Most of the singing I've done since I graduated from high school has been in a church context. Over the years I've reached the conclusion that we tend to get our theology more from the songs we sing than from the sermons we hear. As a result, the two most important questions to ask when determining what to include in a church's repertoire are: 1) Are the lyrics theologically sound? and 2) Can this be sung no matter how hard or good life may be? After that comes other considerations such as singability and musical tastes. I'm a part of Redeemer Church in Cedar Falls. We sing theologically robust songs with lots of words and almost every week we sing at least one song that can be called a lament. We always end on a joyful note as we revel in the gospel that is good news in every circumstance.

Currently my church is experiencing great sorrow because Micah, the 8 year old son of one of our families, died as a result of an accident on Tuesday. Wednesday evening much of the church gathered to pray and sing together in our grief. Others from the community also joined us. The mood was somber as I walked into a very quiet space. No music was playing. Micah's picture was on the screen. Children sat quietly. The only talking was done in whispers. The only sound that could be heard more than a few feet away came from the little ones who can't yet talk. Shortly after Micah's parents came in and sat flanked by close friends the elders began our time together. We prayed and read scriptures that speak of our hope in Jesus, death losing it's sting, the resurrection, and God being the God of comfort and the one who wipes the tears from our eyes.

Dirk then took his guitar and after a long pause to gather himself, he explained that at Redeemer we see singing as a primary way we fight for joy when we are together. God commands us to joyfully obey but we can't make ourselves be joyful. There is no switch we can flip. We must have God's help if we are to sing, and sing loudly.  As we sang, Dirk needed to pause at times between verses and songs so he could continue to lead us. Some could not sing because they were overcome with emotion but their lifted hands showed that they were in agreement with the words being sung around them. Micah's parents were too tired to stand but they sang through their tears.

In my first draft of this post, I quoted significant portions of the songs we sang. But as I've reflected on it more, those words don't mean as much when read on a page. The music and singing them with others adds to their power. Some of the snippets that have come back to my mind include:

Lord, we believe. But help our unbelief.

Lord, we believe. But help our hearts to sing,

That you are good, all of the time

All of the time you are good.

O God, you never leave my side

Your love stands firm through all my life...

Height nor depth nor anything else can pull us apart.

We are joined as one by your blood.

Hope will rise as we become more than conquerors 

Through the one who loved the world. 

So when I'm drowning out at sea
and all your breakers and your waves crash down on me,
I recall your safety scheme.
You're the one who made the waves
And your Son went out to suffer in my place
And to show me that I'm safe.

Though tonight I'm crying out,
"Let this cup pass from me now,"
You're still all that I need.
You're enough for me. 

I was deeply moved as we sang, Lord I need you, Oh, I need you. Every hour I need you... It was sung at the top of our voices in beautiful harmony. The death of a fun-loving boy reminded us that we are weak and helpless creatures who control nothing and are utterly dependent on our creator for everything. Maybe that is why Solomon says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. Mourning resets our perspective and draws us back to dependence on God. 

Dirk wanted to end with a song that would get Micah dancing so we proclaimed: 

All our sickness, all our sorrows

Jesus carried up the hill.

He has walked this path before us,

He is walking with us still.

Turning tragedy to triumph,

turning agony to praise.

There is blessing in the battle,

so take heart and stand amazed.

Rejoice!

When you cry to him he hears your voice.

He will wipe away your tears. Rejoice!

In the midst of suffering He will help you sing.

Rejoice!

When I was growing up, a quote from Martin Luther hung in our living room near the piano. 

Next to the Word of God, 

the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. 

We experienced that reality on Wednesday evening. The truth we sang had been read and prayed but it touched a deeper cord when it was combined with music which allowed us to proclaim it loudly together. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has been singing some of those words throughout the day. No wonder Paul tells us to sing to each other (Eph 5:19).

The mood was still somber when we finished. Many tears were shed and hugs were given but there was also a sense that the long road of healing and comfort had begun.  I left with a sense of gratitude for those who have written laments and church leaders who make sure we sing one almost every week. As a result, when we desperately needed them, we knew them and, with God's help, were able to sing them loudly with all of our hearts.