When Lament Lingers

June's art:  she used to draw stick men.

They were equally as awesome.

Hello Friend!  

What are you doing on this quarantine Sunday?  My eldest just brought me fresh baked cookies and a cup of tea (best thing ever) so I am taking another run at writing you.  I have been sitting at my laptop for an hour now and all I have to show for it is one lousy paragraph and a head ache.

Today, I want to talk about well-meaning church folk, but if I write from my own life experience, I’m bound to make someone cross.  So in a refreshing bout of self-preservation, I would like to introduce you to 2 lovely women, whom I respect and admire for their tenacity and perseverance. 

I met June when she was 3 months old.  Cute, bald and bright eyed, she was a precious little thing.  Not surprisingly, it was also the day I met her mother Jamie, a friend of a friend who had come over for prayer. The way I remember it, I was curled up on the right end of the couch with a pillow on my lap.  Within half an hour, this young woman was lying across the couch with her head on the pillow and I was stroking her hair.  She was sobbing.  I was praying.  After an hour of heart breaking conversation, I was imploring the God of heaven to help, to do something, anything to bring hope to this crushed soul.  Abandoned by an abusive husband, left with two small children, this young woman had no idea how she was going to survive the evening, let alone the next 20 years.  I remember pressing Kleenex into her tear soaked hand and asking, “What on earth do you want me to do, Lord?  What are we supposed to do now?”  Looking at the car seat where June slept quietly in her pink pajamas, I remember sighing, I had no clue.

If you have ever experienced the joy of discipleship, you know how many hours it takes to teach and train a willing heart.  Add to that poverty, single parenting, and limited resources and you will have an understanding of my last 17 years walking alongside June’s family.  My hours on the phone with Jamie have been endless.  We have prayed though fevers and friendships, fatherlessness and firsts, family and feuds.  We have prayed through it all.  We have wept, screamed and laughed late into the evening and in the early morning hours, shivering outside as we talked where children couldn’t hear.  I have prayed for June as she grew up without a father, and said “amen” as Jamie asked Jesus countless times to “shore up the lack” in June’s life.  “Lord Jesus, shore up the lack,” Jamie would pray, “I can’t be a dad; I need you to cover that base for June.”

So the years have passed.  As Jamie went back to school, June’s life improved and then became strained due to sibling dysfunction.  Through it all, June persevered.  She put her head down and worked hard, kept her grades up and attended church, staying accountable when she could have tried on the robe of rebellion and caused herself a whole world of trouble.  But she didn’t.  She kept going, often on scholarships, known as the child of the single mum, which is code for second class citizen in many of our churches. 

Then something amazing happened.  June grew up.  She left behind a toxic school and graduated early with online learning. She realized she had brains.   She got a job in a new environment and found out she was hard working and competent.  Her hours behind her desk and keyboard have meant her artistic talents are developing. Her mum got a great new job and June is experiencing life in new ways without some of the limitations that plagued her childhood.   

It is all lovely to watch but from my viewpoint, some parts are simply astounding. 

Like this week, when June came home from being out with friends and found herself a bit blue.  The young women were church folk and were sharing church thoughts about their church lives. 

Which is a good thing: except when it isn’t. 

The friends were discussing deep truths about how a person needed to be filled in order to minister to others.  They discussed how you needed to overflow in order to reach those around you.  June sat and listened, until her heart couldn’t take the subpar metaphors anymore and she spoke from her experience and from scripture.  “It doesn’t always work like that you know. Sometimes, God shows up when you don’t have anything and you can still give to others.”  And June started to explain to her friends that she grew up without a father, but that Jesus covered that loss.  She explained how she had been given good role models and how God had provided for her over the years when she had no dad; ways she had been blessed and taken care of.  She explained that even though it was painful, God had provided.  It was then she testified to her friends, “I didn’t suffer lack.”

When Jamie recounted this I could have jumped from my chair and run around the block shouting “glory.”  “I didn’t suffer lack.” How many tears did that family shed the night before father’s day? “I didn’t suffer lack.”  Yet June felt the sting of poverty for over a decade.  “I didn’t suffer lack.” The hours her mum cried over the loss of stability and the death of a dream.

I did not suffer lack.

What struck me about the statement was the reality of lament and victory, sitting side by side.  Without a doubt June’s childhood would have been easier if her Dad had stepped up to the role of fatherhood.  But he didn’t and June has cried over the wake of his devastation many times.  Yet still she sees the provision and the beautiful things God did in the emptiness.  She knows that although the cup was empty, Jesus met her there.

When June had finished her little testimony, do you know what her friends said?  Nothing.  They had no words.  It got awkward.  No one said, “That is amazing.  Jesus met you!  How encouraging.”  Nope.  Religion often doesn’t have anything to say when Jesus shows up.  That type of religion promotes victory only: suffering means you didn't pray hard enough.  So June came home sad and needed her mum to tell her she wasn’t crazy.  God does show up when we are low, hurting and in pain.  When we are weak he is strong. You can still win even though your eyes are filled with tears.

For many in this difficult time, the lament lingers.  Their hearts are saddened by their circumstances.  They are empty and they know it, unclear how to cope and what to do next.  All that seems certain is heartache and pain.  If that is you friend, may I reassure you that you can come to Jesus when your cup is empty.  Do not give up.  Do not lose hope.  There is a God who loves you, who is willing to work on your behalf.  He does not look at your pain as something that disqualifies you.  He doesn’t look at you as an empty cup.  He will continue to walk you through the darkness.  He has a plan though you have nothing.  He will shore up lack in the midst of your pain.

You weren’t wrong June. 

I have loved watching you grow up.

xoxKaren

P.S.  I first introduced you to Jamie 10 years ago!  My word I am so old.  It was before I knew how to export pictures.  She is responsible for so much of my grey hair.
Here is the link to that post.
https://itstartedwithalion.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-would-like-jamie.html