I believe in the value and need of lamenting. If you’re familiar with the Old Testament book of Ruth, you know the characters had quite a bit to lament over. So it was no surprise as I read Paul E. Miller’s book A Loving Life based on Ruth that he devoted much of the first part teaching about lament.
Chapter three, “The Lost Art of Lament,” is entirely focused on it.
In the West, we’ve lost the practice of lamenting. In contrast, the ancient Hebrews were constantly in God’s face. About one third of the Psalms are laments where the psalmists pour out their hearts to God.
Later in chapter six, Miller gives a comparison between what happens when we don’t lament or when we actually over-lament. Attention grabbing.
…to not lament puts God at arm’s length and has the potential of splitting us. We appear okay, but we are really brokenhearted.
The opposite danger of not lamenting is over-lamenting. Dwelling on a lament is the breeding ground for bitterness. Bitterness is a wound nursed. Our culture’s emphasis on the sacredness of feelings often gives people an unspoken theology of bitterness. They feel entitled to it. -Chapter 6, “Entering a Broken Heart”
I am guilty of this opposite danger. Nursing a wound in such a way as to keep it rather than heal it has planted bitter seeds.
Having done or observed both of these treatments of lament has taught me valuable lessons. The truth of Ecclesiastes 3 bears witness here. “There is a time for everything.” May we all allow and balance lament’s time.
John Gregory 