Past, Present, & Lament

The past few weeks have been a time of great celebration, hope, and expectancy for many people. The new year comes with a new set of goals, dreams, desires, and rhythms. It seems as if January 1st gives us permission to stop old habits and start something new. This can be really exciting. Yet in a time where we are all looking forward to the glory that is to come, I haven’t been able to move on that quickly this year.

In past years, I floated my way through Christmas and New Year. I would get wrapped up in all of the parties and presents. It was easier that way. When I slowed down enough to really experience Christmas this year, I noticed God inviting me into a heart posture that seemed like bad timing from my perspective. My soul was heavy. In the middle of singing Silent Night, eating Christmas cookies, opening stockings, and seeing New Year’s resolutions posted all over, grief began to overtake my heart. 

Initially, I didn’t know why I felt this way. But I realized that to look forward to the new year requires us looking away from the present, and something about the way God has been leading me through this season has required me to keep my eyes fixed on the present time. It was as if He was asking me to keep staring at the crucified King, rather than gaze at the future treasures of his kingdom. He was inviting me to experience the sorrow of the sacrifice of Christmas. 

Jesus’ sacrifice began far before the cross, when He came down to earth, was wrapped in flesh, and experienced the effects of the fall. He was made vulnerable as a baby, held by human hands that would cause him to die. We celebrate Christmas because we are on the other side of the cross. Yet Christmas for Jesus began his suffering. We see Jesus lament his life in the garden of Gethsemane, where he was full of sorrow to the point of death and he asks the father for the cup to be taken away from him. On a day when we celebrate our savior’s life, he began a life where he would be beaten, scolded, abused, and ultimately crucified.

The most well-known verses from the book of Lamentations is 3:22-23, where Jeremiah says, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” We sing these words often, and God’s steadfast love and unending mercies are common themes of the Christmas season. Yet this conclusion is only reached after Jeremiah spends two chapters confessing the gut-wrenching, vulnerable, honest state of sorrow in his heart. Even then, we read in verse 21 that Jeremiah made a choice to declare this, “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.” In the midst of his lament, he recalls that which he knows, the truth. His hope stemmed from what he knows about God’s character.

I wonder if this is why Hebrews 12:2 says that it was for the joy set before Jesus that he endured the cross. Jesus, trusting in the character of his Father, continually surrendered his life unto His hands. In the moments of lament, sorrow, and suffering, Jesus called to mind the purposes of his Father. Even Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith experienced lament. He did not ignore it or numb it, He trusted his Father enough to hold his heart in the midst of his pain. Maybe lamenting this season isn’t bad timing. Maybe it is fitting to remember the agony of Jesus’ life to remind ourselves of the miraculous joy of our salvation.

This season has challenged me to be gut-wrenchingly honest about the suffering we face in this life. Because it is in that place of trust and surrender that we can call to mind the character of our Father. That process increases our faith and strengthens our foundation. I have found that lament and love sit very close to one another. Or maybe, to lament before God is an act of love, where we entrust more of ourselves to him. 

No matter where you find yourself this season, whether you are looking forward to 2023 or catching up from 2022, my prayer is this:

May we each call to mind, remember, and have hope in the steadfast love of God. And would we, just like Jesus, endure life’s sufferings for the joy set before us. May our New Years resolutions make space for the intimacy of lament.