my good friday lamentations

 this week i read the first three chapters of lamentations, a place i've gone at other times of disappointment in my life. when experiencing loss is a good time to read lamentations to get some perspective on that loss. quickly realized that i am well; i am healthy, i have rob, my home, a future that isn't really marred by my recent disappointment. still, i have found myself crying out like the writer of Lamenations as he describes decimated Jerusalem:

"He pierced my heart with arrows from his quiver...I have been deprived of peace; i have forgotten what prosperity is. So I say, 'my splendor is gone and all that I had hoped for from the Lord.'

"I remember my afflictions and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me."

But then out of the blue...
"Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'the Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait on Him.' 

"The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord...Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust--there may yet be hope...

"For men are not cast off by the Lord forever, Though He bring grief, He will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."

if anyone had spoken words like this to me at any time in the past few weeks, honestly, i would have been pretty irritated. but somehow reading them from the mouth of someone who was witnessing God's wrath as poured out on Israel apparently because of their rebellious and sinful behavior (however that all worked) --i'm compelled to take notice. i found that these were words that i could pray, even though i haven't felt much like praying. these words were ones i could take to heart.


"Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord." 

The past week has been one of returning for me --returning to the Lord after being mad at Him. i hate to write that --it sounds really childish and prideful, doesn't it. doesn't sound like the faithful, mature believer that i am supposed to be after all these years. but it is the honest believer that i am.

But this morning as i sat down to read and journal, this Good Friday...i was aware of one thing. I miss the Lord. i miss the freedom of worshiping with a clear heart, a grateful heart...i miss the feeling of being a friend of God--not one that will sit with Him but not talk because she's holding a grudge. i miss being the trusting girl that i was before Kazakhstan, and i want to be that again. i miss You, Jesus.


don't have any more answers to the whys of what happened. i do have some clarity and a bit more understanding about myself though, and some of the ways i was holding tightly clenched fists rather than open ones...thought i knew all about the "mom story" God was writing --though i could not have admitted that then.


whatever happens now, i think i hold things a little less tightly ...i think i'm more ready to open my hands and say, "whatever you give me, Lord, or --whatever you take away..." 

for many years i've been helping plan pre-Easter events at whatever church i've been a part of, having come to feel strongly that we can't fully appreciate the significance of nor rejoice in Easter unless we've taken some time to reflect on Christ's passion first. i wasn't up to planning anything at church this year, but last night we held a little Maundy Thursday service with four of our friends, right here at our house. we read scripture, sang hymns and took communion. we reflected as we felt led on whatever aspect of the passion hit us. it was really meaningful.

this Easter, i'm struck by something Yancey alludes to in Disappointment with God, a timely book rob and i reading together. throughout the OT, you see God showing himself in power, telling people exactly what they need to do to be obedient--speaking; doing miracles; showing himself in clouds, fire and wind; giving people second chances; often doling out wrath for injustice, or blessing for righteousness --all trying to gain the faithfulness of His chosen people. but despite all, the people rebel, forget Him, and fawn after other gods. at one point God says to Jeremiah, as if at the end of himself, "but what else can I do?"

so He does something completely different, and He lays aside his power. He becomes a weak, frail human. He is among us. He humbly allows himself to be killed for nothing that He did; willingly, the God that shakes the earth lays Himself down. bleeds. dies. is buried.

all that He might gain our love, which His power and strong hand have not been able to induce.

this gets me. it really gets me.

i want to rise again this Easter, Jesus. i want to die to this self that has been so self-centered, sulky, ungrateful. i want to rise up new, with You.

thanks for walking with us during the pain of the past few weeks, Father. but now, please forgive me, Jesus, for all the rotten disbelief i let fester in me at the same time. let me love You. let me experience Your resurrection...