Writing a psalm of lament




I recently attended a workshop over Zoom on Trauma and Wellbeing which was organised by my workplace, the United Reformed Church. It was absolutely first-class, led by the Revd Carla Grosch-Miller with warmth and empathy. I learned so much about the way our brains process trauma, and how our bodily responses to trauma are completely normal.

We were encouraged, at one point, to write our own psalm of lament to God as a way of expressing our feelings about this pandemic and all the trauma it’s caused. I’ve done this kind of spiritual writing exercise before, and found it helpful and inspiring, so it wasn’t new to me. Indeed I’ve written my own psalms, on and off, for years.

I tried to be as honest as I could. Here it is, my psalm of lament, unedited from the workshop session. Apart from one significant edit … the language I used for ‘angry’ was considerably stronger! I won’t apologise for my political opinions, because that’s all part of the honesty.

‘Lord,

I am so weary and worried about the state of this nation. I am so angry with this government, who tell lies – who seemingly don’t care about the businesses collapsing because of Brexit – who will not tell the truth – who betray the poor, and treat refugees and asylum seekers with contempt. I am so angry on behalf of the fishermen, cheesemakers, artists, pub owners, trying to make a living.

Where are you in all this? I get angry, too, with fellow Christians coming up with trite answers to the problem of suffering. I get so fed up with Christians who say the pandemic is all about you judging us.

I’ve had enough. I want everyone to live in peace and prosperity, without worrying about their next meal, or losing their home, or being evicted. I want justice to reign throughout this land. I want this wretched pandemic to end. Don’t you want that too?

Please help us. Please help me. Don’t let this nation sink. Bring us relief.

And may we turn to you. May people realise that you are the source of love, and justice, and joy, and peace.

I thank you, God, for the vaccine. I thank you for the human ingenuity that has helped bring this about. I thank you for all the gifts you give us – the gifts of science, discovery, medicine, and for good intentions.

And help me, in this dark time, to be the person you want me to be … to show the love you have shown me, to those who need to feel it too.

Amen. So may it be.’

As I read this back, it still seems a bit polite and restrained to me! And it may strike you the same way. There’s also a lot I haven’t said …

You can also see a progression in my psalm of lament, how I move from perplexed, angry questioning and even despair, to a place of trust and hope and resolution, asking God to help me serve him better, to do some good in this suffering world. I didn’t plan this … it’s just the way my psalm turned out.

Many of the biblical psalms have a similar sort of movement – not that I’m comparing my own humble psalm to scripture. Many psalms open with questioning, sorrow, pain, even anger and questioning, and then arrive at a strong, often gloriously triumphant, declaration of faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (who is also the God of Sarah, Hagar, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel). There is one exception to this, Psalm 88, which stays with the darkness and despair and thus speaks powerfully into our human condition. The strong faith of the psalms never, ever nullifies their wonderful honesty. The whole gamut of human emotions is in the ancient songbook of Israel. Jesus knew the psalms well, of course, and quoted them … including in his darkest, most awful, suffering on the cross.

It is a wonderful thing to be honest with our God, who is never, ever fazed by our human emotions. Write your psalm of lament … and don’t edit out the feelings. My experience is that the more honest we are before God, the more our faith can grow.

And I think it’s a good exercise for us, as Christian writers.






I work full time for the United Reformed Church in the central London office (although am working from home at the moment). I’m also a lay minister. I wrote a devotional for the anthology ‘Light for the Writer’s Soul’, published by Media Associates International, and my short story ‘Magnificat’ appears in the ACW Christmas Anthology ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’.

Comments

  1. Philippa, you never disappoint. Thank you for this; angry, questioning and undoubtedly infused with your own wonderful, compassionate humanity. I've been doing a fair bit of lamenting this week and have been struggling to believe that it is OK to feel like this, to question God and to cry out in this way. Thank you for your bravery in sharing this.

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    1. Thank you so much, Ruth. My fellow ACW writers are so encouraging!

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  2. Thank you SO MUCH for daring to speak out like this. We are experiencing the same feelings. Though this is slightly off topic, we and a distant friend have covenanted to pray at around 10 am every day in Lent along those lines. We would welcome distant, invisible, but spiritually united prayer companions if anyone would like to join us.

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  3. Great piece, very on-topic for our times. Lament - of course - so does our wonderful God, I believe, for all the crazy, selfish, government stuff, and how as a group humanity is like Samson pulling down the whole edifice on itself. Christ's teaching goes unheard today, but he saw into human sin, and its consequences, and he still does.

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  4. Thank you, Philippa. I love your honesty and your passion. This is what makes our writing meaningful and real. We really need this.

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  5. Thank you for that Philippa. Your Psalm of lament has put words in mouth where I didn't know how to express my own and you've given me the courage to face my own questions and sorrows and express them in this way. Thank you, a beautiful post

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