A few months ago, I blogged about what I learned about lamenting when I underwent a stem cell transplant for multiple myeloma. I needed to learn these things because lamenting doesn’t come easily to someone of my temperament. I’ve always gravitated toward biblical verses about rejoicing in the Lord always, giving thanks in all circumstances, and counting it all joy when we undergo trials.

I knew with my head that lamenting was an appropriate form of prayer, and I encouraged my son in it when he went through a time of crisis, but it took a blood cancer for me to pray laments from the heart.

Still, when I compare Old and New Testament lamenting, I can’t shake the sense that the coming of Jesus changed the role of lament for God’s people. Were the laments fewer in quantity? Changed in terms of content? Of a different intensity? I’m not sure what it is, but I thought I’d try to articulate what I’m sensing.

To be sure, laments are still found in the New Testament. Jesus, the man of sorrows, cried out in agony, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” while hanging on the cross. The followers of Jesus join with all creation in groaning about the suffering that suffuses the world (Romans 8:22-23). Paul shares that he and his ministry partners “were so utterly and unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself” (2 Corinthians 1:8). In that same letter he expressed that his ministry could be characterized as “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (6:10). Then in Revelation 6:10, we hear the heart cry of the saints in heaven, “How long will it be before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the world?”

Nevertheless, it still seems to me that the reality of Jesus affects our experience of lament.

Incarnation. Divine lamenting is found frequently in the Old Testament. For instance, “The Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart” (Genesis 6:7), and “the Lord was sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel” (1 Samuel 15:35). We also hear God’s laments over his wayward people throughout the prophets (as in Hosea 11:1-9). God laments in heaven; humans lament on earth.

But something new happened when the Word became flesh: divine laments and human laments come together in one person: “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death” (Hebrews 5:7). That means we no longer lament separately from God. We now have a divine/human brother who faithfully laments with us. Because Jesus was “not ashamed to call [us] brothers and sisters” (Hebrews 2:11), he can “sympathize with our weaknesses” (Hebrews 4:15). Jesus knows what it’s like to be in a lamentable situation and so he can enter into our laments. This is also what the Spirit of Jesus is doing when he “helps us in our weakness” and “intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26, ESV). We’re not alone in our laments.

Jesus’ teaching ministry. Both Old and New Testaments call us to follow the Lord. But when Jesus came, the expectations of what that entailed shifted. Many Old Testament texts give the strong impression that if you obey God, then you can expect near-term blessings. This is especially the case in the book of Proverbs, some of the promises given in the Psalms, and many of the sermons that follow the Deuteronomic tradition. Deuteronomy 28:1-14, for instance, lists one blessing after another for those who obey. Many verses could be interpreted in support of Job’s friends: blessings follow righteousness, calamities follow disobedience.

Of course, the book of Job reveals that his friends were wrong—at least in Job’s case. Other Old Testament texts plainly state that even righteous people will suffer. A few of the prophets (notably Jeremiah and Ezekiel) were specifically called to suffer. Some of the Servant Songs imply that the Messiah and/or God’s people will suffer redemptively. Nonetheless, a lot of Old Testament teaching sets us up to expect near-term blessings when we follow the Lord. So when our expectations are not met, and we suffer instead, we are deeply disappointed. We lament because it seems God has failed to keep his promises.

But when Jesus came, he clarified what we should expect. Yes, we can expect blessings, but many of them are transposed into a different key of spiritual well-being and future joy. He also said his followers should expect to suffer, to take up the cross daily, to die to ourselves, to serve, to be last, to be hated for his name’s sake (Matthew 10:22). In this world we can expect great tribulation (John 16:33). When Paul experienced hardship, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t say, “Nobody ever told me there would be days like these.” Whatever lament Paul expressed to God was tempered by the fact that he knew that suffering was part of his calling (Acts 9:16). He expressed this forcefully, but enigmatically, in Colossians 1:24, “I fill up that which remains to be completed of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for [the sake of] his body, which is the church” (my translation). I believe lament is lessened in intensity when we expect to suffer as Christians.

Crucifixion. The wages of sin is death, that is, separation from God. As guilty ones, then, we deserve to die for our sin and be forsaken by God. But Jesus went to the cross as the sacrificial lamb to bear our guilt, our sin, our death, even our godforsakenness. That’s why he prayed that horrible lament on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” In a sense this is a substitutionary lament. Jesus was not just experiencing a feeling of godforsakenness, but its reality, so that we would never have to experience that lamentable condition ourselves. Don’t get me wrong. We’ll still have times of feeling forsaken by God, and we might even pray that same prayer (which comes from Psalm 22). But because of the cross, we know—even if it’s far off in the back of our minds—that we will never be forsaken by God in the way that Jesus was. This has a way of tempering our own laments.

Resurrection. While the Old Testament contains wonderful glimpses of living beyond death, this truth is not prominent at all. Some verses even imply that the speaker has no expectation of life beyond death. From this perspective, if this is the only life we have, and it’s full of pain and sorrow, it would be very easy to respond with bitter lament (or even unbelief).

In order to cope with the harshness of life, the Jews not only lamented, but they also became increasingly confident that there must be life beyond death. But it was not until Jesus rose from the dead that such a hope became more certain. Jesus taught us that in the near-term we can expect suffering, but his resurrection shows us that in the long-term better things await us. Through Jesus’ resurrection that future hope has even invaded the present, for God’s kingdom is inaugurated and eternal life begins now. Paul said that “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied” (1 Corinthians 15:19); but we don’t have to be pitied at all. When we know that God has a great kingdom in store, not only for a future generation, but even for ourselves, then we gain a new perspective on our present suffering: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). Death and suffering still hurt, but they have lost their sting because of Jesus’ resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:55). And without that sting, our laments are tempered as well.

Pentecost. Scripture teaches that God is present everywhere, as Psalm 139 so eloquently testifies. But the Old Testament also gives the impression that our experience of that presence varies tremendously. God sends his Spirit to empower this or that leader, and then the Spirit is withdrawn. God is present in a special way at the tabernacle and temple, but the writer of Psalm 42 laments his absence from God when he is unable to go there. Sometimes God hides his face from his people, or shuts his ears to their cry. These experiences of not sensing God’s presence stir us to lament, “How long will you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1).

When Jesus came, however, many experienced the miracle of having God so close that he could be seen, heard, and touched (1 John 1:1). When Mary and Martha wondered, “Is the Lord present in my time of sorrow?” they knew the answer: yes, he’s weeping next to me with his arm around my shoulder. But due to the finite nature of the human body, this was not the ultimate way that God chose to be present with us. He told his disciples that it was good for them that he would ascend to heaven, so that they could be taught and accompanied by a helper, the Holy Spirit. Through the indwelling of the Spirit within them, Jesus himself would live within them as individuals and among them as his people.

While we will still lament and experience times in which it feels like God is absent or unresponsive, the Spirit assures us that these feelings are not actually true to reality (except for the internal reality of our emotional state, which still must be considered). God is with us and within us and among us. And not only is the Lord in us, but we are in the Lord; we are never in a sphere outside of him. As this truth sinks into our spiritual bones, then the intensity and frequency of lament is lessened.

Ascension and Reign. We might think that once Jesus ascended into heaven, he never had to lament again, but I’m not so sure. Jesus still weeps with those who weep. He lives among the least of these who undergo suffering in this life (Matthew 25:31-46). When he came to Paul on the Damascus road, he asked, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” His Spirit can be grieved. When he lamented over Jerusalem, longing to gather the lost in his arms like a hen gathering her chicks, that was not just a one-time longing. Jesus still yearns to gather a lost world into his kingdom. Christians have always believed Jesus ascended and is currently ruling at the right hand of the Father, interceding for us. It’s not a stretch to think that his intercession includes lament for our fallen world. And Jesus calls us to join him in those lamenting prayers, asking that justice would be done, evil would be vanquished, sinners would be reborn, etc. When the early church prayed against the nations that raged against God’s Messiah, they were joining Jesus in lament (Acts 4:23-31).

Some might have construed my earlier remarks about substitutionary lamenting to mean that Jesus lamented so we can now live a lament-free life. Not at all. Jesus is not only our substitute who undergoes things so we don’t have to; he’s also our representative who leads the way in lamenting, calling us to participate with him in a kind of missional lamenting.

When we do that, our lamentations expand to include not only our personal hassles and crises, but also the lamentable concerns all around us. We’re not throwing a private pity party for ourselves. Rather, our hearts are learning to break for what breaks God’s heart. This is the great point made by Amanda Benckhuysen’s recent blog “Lament as Protest and Hope.”  

In the parable of the widow and the unjust judge in Luke 18:1-8, Jesus commended the widow for being persistent in her lament for justice to be done. While there is a place for calling out to our politicians and judges for justice to be done (as the widow cried out to a human judge), Jesus is especially emphasizing here the important role of praying for God to bring justice: “Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?” (Luke 18:7). We join Jesus in praying for justice, for ourselves, yes, but even more for others.

Second Coming. Our lives before God are full of joys and sorrows. Sometimes they happen consecutively, but even more often simultaneously. Maybe it’s a lot of sorrow with a touch of anticipatory joy. Maybe it’s a lot of joy with a touch of lingering sorrow. After recounting all the ways that God has hurt him, for instance, the writer of Lamentations 3 still exclaims, “But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Amazing. And this kind of joyful lament is strengthened even more by the good news of Jesus coming to earth.

And when Jesus comes back…then lament will be more than transformed; it will disappear. As Paul noted, when Jesus returns, prophecies, tongues and knowledge will cease. So will laments. But faith, hope and love from Jesus will abide forever. Amen.