In San Antonio, it rained most of the day on July 4. In the morning I heard a little bit about flooding in Kerrville, 60 miles away. That night as I played a board game with my family, the news started coming in: “18 dead so far from Kerrville flooding.” Of course, that number has only grown.
I am relatively new to this area and have no personal connections to victims. But I knew that there would be many in our church community at Redeemer who would be deeply impacted. Sunday was only two days away and we, like many other churches, wondered how to handle news like this as we gathered for corporate worship. How does a church begin to grieve deeply and honestly over tragedies, natural and unnatural?
One of the challenges that I have experienced as a worship and music director is how to lament in our worship services, both after tragic events and on more regular Sundays. Do we lament only our sin and then rejoice in forgiveness? What about the everyday suffering and difficulty of life? When do we get to cast those cares upon the Lord, because he cares about those, too?
Sometimes in our liturgies, we run the risk of communicating that because the gospel is true and our sins are forgiven, our emotions reflect nothing but joy and gratitude. But so much of life happens in the “cracks” of our liturgy. When someone is suffering, it can sometimes be hard to know where exactly they should put that grief in a regular worship service.
Unspeakable tragedies – like a flood that takes the lives of many people, including young girls at a summer camp – force us to deal honestly with the emotional complexities of living in a fallen world. We must bring these deep and difficult emotions with us into worship, not leave them on the steps of the church. This is why we must incorporate lament into our worship times, both in the aftermath of tragedy and on a regular basis.
When tragedy strikes, those of us in churches near and far will wonder rightly, “What should we do? What can we do?” Thankfully, there will later be opportunities to help out in tangible ways like giving or helping with disaster relief. But in the meantime, the gathered church can be a place where its members can process the sadness, grief, and perplexity of a tragedy that makes no sense.
Neuroscience teaches that traumatic events must be felt. This is true for individuals and for the corporate gathering. If the physical body keeps the score, as psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk put it, the Body of Christ also keeps the score.
How might the church better incorporate lament into worship services? Thankfully, God has already given us a pattern in his Word. We can use the psalms and other parts of Scripture to give our hearts language and even the boldness to say hard and honest things to God.
We might think it improper to write a new hymn that asks God, “Why have you forgotten me?” or “Why are you so far away?” But Psalms like Psalm 42 and Psalm 22 give us words to say and permission to bring our whole and broken selves to God. Perhaps, when we sing these words to God as his beloved children, his fatherly heart might be drawn toward us all the more.
As pastors and worship planners, we sometimes act like sadness and lament on a Sunday morning are bad PR for God. But the larger culture will see right through our painted smiles if we refuse to be emotionally honest as human beings. Lament does not “spoil” an otherwise good worship service. Instead, it should make us hunger more for God’s final work of redemption that will restore our souls, bodies, and the rest of creation. When our emotions are fully and honestly engaged in the presence of our loving Lord, we will be invited into a larger story of salvation and healing.
Lament in worship should not be seen as an interruption to “normal” worship in the same way that suffering should not be seen as an interruption to “normal” life (1 Peter 4:12). Worship on Sunday mornings must acknowledge the ongoing difficulties and tragedies of life. This is a constant means by which we, in our weakness, draw near to our God who promises to dwell with the broken and contrite in spirit. He also promises that in the meantime, until every tear is wiped away, his grace is sufficient.
Jacob Tilton is the director of music ministries at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in San Antonio, Texas.