We must never lose sight of the fact that all these laments flow from that first faithful response in [Job] 1:20, "then he fell to the ground in worship". (A Sacred Sorrow, p 50)
I was ignorant to how desperate my heart was to hear this reminder regarding the placement of Job's many laments following his initial response of tearing his clothes and falling to the ground in worship. Perhaps I should back up a bit.
On February 25, 2024 we held our precious daughter whose heart no longer beat this side of Heaven. As my husband took his time holding his little girl for the last time, I knew we needed to be reminded of the goodness of God. We had just spent the last hour on our knees on that ER floor begging the Lord for "a shockable rhythm" so she could be transferred to a higher-level facility; in effect we were begging for her life. God said "no". Abigail was ushered into Heaven, but we were left here.
Yes, in that moment we NEEDED to be reminded of God's goodness, and we needed those who had worked so hard to save our little girl's life to know He was still good amid the horror of what just transpired. Thus, I pulled out my phone and played "The Goodness of God" while Adam held our daughter, and I draped myself over them. We were a broken pile of the most unimaginable pain. I didn't care how loud it was or who heard it. As some point someone came behind me and put their arm on my shoulder. We fell and worshipped. Only God knows how desperate and painful that moment was.
On March 1, 2024 we stood at the front of a church beside a too small box holding a too young child while music played. We were very intentional about what songs played during those hours. During the service we chose to sing "The Goodness of God" and "Hymn of Heaven" with all those who sat in that sanctuary with us. Those moments were some of the most raw acts of worship my heart has ever given. While my legs miraculously kept me upright my heart was shattered into a million pieces on the floor clinging to the One who now held my daughter.
Fast forward a year: the most painful and dark year of my life thus far. This has been a year of unfiltered, unbridled, desperate, angry, broken, and sorrowful laments.
My soul needed reminding of this natural order: worship, then lament. Knowing this brings a sweet relief. I had questioned of late if my initial reaction of worship was genuine or a simpleton's reaction in shock. Was I avoiding the brutality or glossing over it by lifting my hands in worship that day? Was it the faithful reactionary response I so longed to have in the face of suffering? This doubt- this lie- over whether my worship was genuine because of all the wrestling and pouring that has come forth from my heart since was causing me further sorrow and even fear, more so than I was aware. As I read this passage from A Sacred Sorrow, tears of relief wet my cheeks. My worship on February 25 and March 1, which felt so sincere and wholehearted was indeed so. Never was it simple, but it was sincere.
The groans and laments I've had since then? They are accepted, necessary, and healthy. They do not negate the sincerity or the truth of that initial falling to worship. I can still cling to and treasure that. There's room. Thank you, Lord is the sigh of my heart. I read through Job twice this past year, but I failed to make this connection. Oh, what a release and consolation this is to my grieving heart. It is biblical that all my protests, laments, and complaints have come from that place of broken worship.
I am so grateful for the confirmation Job's sincerity and order of worship and lament has given me. Sweet Job. Sweet relief. My prayer is that my future laments and pourings of sorrow continue to flow from that initial response of worship. I'll be honest: some days it seems harder. Lord, help me.
Comments
Post a Comment