Counting Sorrows

Blessings. 

Gratitude. 

Both very real, necessary, and worthy of acknowledgment. 

I often wonder if we remember sorrow and heartache are no less real or less worthy of acknowledgement? 

It's good to be intentional with thanksgiving; I frequently pray for grateful hearts. Yet, there's something hurtful - abrasive even - about living in a culture (both church and society) which only allows for counting blessings, not sorrows. 

In the time since holding my little Abigail's body after she left this earth and then putting that little body in the ground, I find myself drawn to some lyrics and keys but appalled by others. For example: before Abigail left I never considered how bizarre it is we sing about being beaten by the billowing waves of life (and death), deep discouragement to the point of hopelessness, and a cross so heavy doubts scream for attention in a perky and almost giddy cadence and key. We sing "don't be discouraged" in the face of discouraging circumstances in a way which almost seems (for some) to add more weight to our already heavy burdens. We sing "count your many blessings name them one by one" as though naming them calms the waves which threaten to drown us, removes the sting of death, or counterbalances the weight of an unbearable cross. Honestly, it settles like an unpleasant case of indigestion. 

This popular hymn, Count Your Many Blessings, brings to mind Romans 12:15, "rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn". My heart screams, "I count my blessings and yours, won't you count my sorrows too?" I'm left feeling as though something must be wrong with me. Perhaps I'm the problem, or else wouldn't we have already been having these discussions before now? Church culture seems not to allow the counting of sorrows. And I wonder "why?" Is it fear? The list of possibilities is endless. Why do we demand people regularly rejoice corporately, yet neglect regular corporate lament (through sermons, prayer, intercession, liturgy, and music)?  Why so often does it seem the broken and hurting ones are an afterthought? I realize this will sound harsh (although not my intent) or foreign to some. 

I've sometimes wondered if perhaps my longing to count and acknowledge the sorrows is unbiblical because it seems so foreign in our culture. I'm learning just because something is absent in our culture or churches does not necessarily mean it should be. When I read scripture, I am reminded it is a Book of constant sorrows. God's Word didn't edit all the unpalatable and painful things to get to the Good News. The Good News seems much brighter against the backdrop of the darkness, brokenness, tragedy, sorrows, griefs, and laments found page after page. What our culture lacks in depth, by God's mercy He provides in the pages of his Word. I cannot sufficiently express the sincerity of my gratitude for the Lord’s compassion and loving-kindness for doing so. Chapter Seven of Micah starts with "What misery is mine!" The old adage, "misery loves company" is true: not for the sake of being more miserable, but for the sake of solidarity, acknowledgement, and even encouragement.   

Recently, I was feeling especially out of sorts as a Debbie Downer surrounded by Perky Peggys. The holiday season has a way of alienating those carrying both sorrow and gratitude. In the face of great loss one can feel guilty expressing either of these. Then I read Psalm 56:8. 

Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll- are they not in your record? (NIV)

You yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? (CSB) 

Dear one, God himself keeps a list, a book even, of all our sorrows.  He counts them one by one as he gently gathers each tear shed. Tears are the pen with which such sorrows are recorded. David, "a man after God's own heart" spent much ink recording both thanksgiving and lament. Habakuk too lists many "thoughs" before getting to the "yet I" (3:17). Can we not do the same? 

I decided to take the lyrics and pattern of the popular hymn Count Your Many Blessings and rewrite them for the grateful yet grieving hearts. If I were musically gifted, I would slow the cadence and switch the keys, but alas, the Lord did not see it necessary to gift me with such abilities. I pray it is a balm to other weary hearts. 

Count Your Many Sorrows

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed

When you are discouraged thinking of your loss

Count your many sorrows, name them one by one. 

God has them recorded each and every one. 

Refrain:

Count your sorrows name them one by one

Count your sorrows, see what God’s not done. 

Count your burdens, name them one by one. 

Count your many sorrows; see what God has done. 

Are you ever burdened with a load of care? 

Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear? 

Count your many sorrows, let the tears flow down. 

Let the songs of lament be sung all around. 

When you carry grief and the pit seems deep

Remember Christ to you his promises will keep. 

Count your many sorrows, he is Lord of all

He gathers all your tears even as they fall.

When the path is lonely and you do not fit

Among the throngs of laughter, season’s merriment

Count your many sorrows, Christ is near to you.

Our Savior who was broken now weeps with you. 

So, amid the conflict of a broken heart

Rejoicing of the masses seems to sting and smart

Count your many sorrows; lament all of them

Christ will comfort give you to your journey’s end. 

*There are many who are greatly uplifted and encouraged by the original hymn, some of whom are in my own family  I’m glad for them, and am reminded music hits each of us differently. There’s nothing “wrong” with those who do find enjoyment among its lyrics and notes.