Confession: I am very disappointed — nope, I’m angry — with God.
As Mother Theresa famously said, “In my soul, I can’t tell you how dark it is. I feel like refusing God.”
At a wise friend’s counsel, I spent my commute this morning dictating the beginnings of a Siri-facilitated iPhone-note lament. With Siri’s incessant and inappropriate auto-corrects, I admit my tears turned to laughter a few times at the absurdity of it all.
“…please country me through this…” “…my faith and my pineapples are shaken…” >_< Stupid Siri – I’m trying really hard to be mad right now! No laughing!
But unlike my previous lament to broccoli, this one is absolutely no joke.
A real lament is when you cry out to God with doubts and/or perceived incriminations of Him and others. Bringing a complaint against Him in this context is the first step toward real surrender. Surrender of your mind, heart, body, soul, and will in brutal honesty, begging for mercy and divine intervention, and receiving His terms for restoration. It feels like a raging battle — but my offensive tactics toward him keep pulling me closer to Him.
My lament is an inconceivable surrender to God.
A lament gives you a moment to embrace and deal with your anger, your disappointment — and then, to let it go and give it ALL to Him.
There are many examples in the book of Lamentations – it’s the only book of the Bible filled entirely with filed complaints to God. Mine isn’t nearly as eloquent; nor will it ever be shared from a pulpit in humble reverence with a “Thanks be to God” congregational response. (There are a few too many swears.)
As I re-read my jarbled Siri lament, my intentional outcry to get God to notice me — even by provoking him unfairly — reveals my frailty, my brokenness and angst. But small as I am… and as small as my problems are in the context of Eternity, I know He hears me, is grieving with me, and is even now making all things work together for my good. I can’t deny it, even when I try to — even though I may want to. His presence is so ridiculously obvious.
Like a spoiled little child, I’ll refine my rant until I’m ready to “let Him have it” — literally and figuratively. The good news is, I know God can take it. I am angry, but my love and desire for Him is stronger than ever.