It’s good to lament. Or maybe not. Who knows? Maybe we better back up and first ask “what does it mean to lament?”
To answer that, let’s consult Got Questions, where they say:
To lament is to express deep regret, grief, or sorrow. We can lament through words or actions.
Further, lamenting is a common theme in the Bible, and one of the Old Testament books is specifically named Lamentations. I bring it up in light of Edwards’ 61st resolution, in which he vows against listlessness and excuses for it.
A deeper diver into the meaning of “listlessness” will likely lead you to conclude Edwards is speaking of apathy, given they are both the equivalent of “unenergetic disinterest.” Though apathy and lamenting are not exactly equals – it’s safe to say they run in the same circles. One (apathy) may give way to the other (lament), hence Edwards is therefore suggesting there are no “excuses” for apathy.
Because, as he concludes, apathy and excuses for it will distract his appreciation for God’s grace.
Jonathan Edwards Resolution 61
Edwards’ Resolution #61 (as it was written)
Resolved, that I will not give way to that listlessness which I find unbends and relaxes my mind from being fully and fixedly set on religion, whatever excuse I may have for it-that what my listlessness inclines me to do, is best to be done, etc. May 21, and July 13, 1723.
Edwards’ Resolution #61 (in my modernized language)
I will not make excuses or give in to apathy and disinterest because it distracts me from acknowledging God’s Grace.
A review of his diary on the dates referenced in Edwards’ resolution shows that he was probably getting caught up in his natural state of sin. It’s possible that he might have even been romanticizing sin – or at least falling entranced by it. Knowing this, then, it’s possible that he’s angry about his soul state.
That he’s lamenting over it.
I know I can relate. How about you?
Why We Should and Should Not Lament
Do you recall the story of Mary and Martha? It’s from Luke 10:38-41, where we are shown a frantic Martha being the busy bee and very picture of frantic anxiety while hosting Jesus. At the same time, Mary is seated at the feet of Jesus, fixated on his teachings.
In her lament, Martha asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her. And how does Jesus respond?
He says to her: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42).
Seeing this, we might conclude it is not good to lament.
Later, in John 11:21, we again see Martha lamenting to Jesus. She tells him that, if only he had been there, her brother, Lazarus, would not have died. Jesus answers simply that her brother will rise again. Mary says pretty much the same thing a few verses later (32). A short time later, while at the tomb, Jesus weeps as well.
This is not the only time we see Jesus lamenting. He lamented over Jerusalem in Matthew 23:37-39.
God himself also laments over the wickedness and ignorance of His people. Seeing this, we might conclude it is fully appropriate to lament.
Heaven and earth, you’re the jury.
– Isaiah 1:2-9 MSG
Listen to God’s case:
“I had children and raised them well,
and they turned on me.
The ox knows who’s boss,
the mule knows the hand that feeds him,
But not Israel.
My people don’t know up from down.
Shame! Misguided God-dropouts,
staggering under their guilt-baggage,
Gang of miscreants,
band of vandals—
My people have walked out on me, their God,
turned their backs on The Holy of Israel,
walked off and never looked back.
The Value of Lamenting and the Futility of Apathy
I used to have a life philosophy, adopted after many discussions with other like-minded friends, that I should seek to die without one regret. Of course, that was the hubris of a much younger self. A very basic analysis would no-doubt conclude it’s impossible.
You see, it’s not possible to live every moment with reckless abandon, for doing so would lead one to wish they had been more cautious. Conversely, you cannot live overly cautious, for you will go out wishing you’d taken more risks.
It is entirely realistic, though, to pursue a life that is resistant to apathy – or to use Edwards’ term, listlessness.
There is a time to regret or grieve. To mourn. However, it all must be done in the course of being fully alive. Daily, I battle this such listlessness. In fact, I’ve spent most of the last several months mired in a depressed state, as I am often prone to do. From my studies of Edwards, I find that he was just as often likely to fall into bouts of depression. I therefore have no doubt that this resolution (as are many others) is one way in which he sought to battle that deplorable state of being.
Alone in the Wilderness
Bouts of depression suck. And they suck all joy from your soul. The only way I can describe them is being in an absolute state of indescribable sadness. There may be no one or no thing to blame – and that’s what makes it such a terrifying way to think.
While I am on an upswing – a “good season” as I call them – I have to remain on guard to stay in season. On that note, I want to share a poem I drafted just as I concluded this most reason “down season” (as I call them). In this simple lament, I acknowledged to God my feelings at the time. You will likely see my hopeless state. You will see a lot about me that may surprise you.
It does NOT mean I had given up on God. To the contrary, it was an acknowledgement of my feeling distant from his embrace, from the love and strength I know is only achievable through him.
Perhaps that’s sort of how Jesus felt while alone in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11) – though I am sure it was on a much grander and tempting scale that I ever could know or withstand, absent of God of course.
Desperate Faith – A Poem of Lament
Called to a life I would not choose,
feels like, like always payin’ dues.
Where’s any sort of relief – futilely I seek
it to end the spiral of denial, of self-talk,
and the fabrications, those crazy lies I speak,
You know, the sentiments and things I say
while I bargain to complete every waking day?
You arms are open. Oh so wide open.
It’s so real, yet it’s all so really cliche’
b’cause in this very moment,
I have no warm or tangible concept…
of your perfect love.
I hear there’s hope. There’s hope
for the broken souls. Those souls like me.
But I have to wonder, still I wonder how
that hope can possibly include me.
I exist, dropping into a world that thrives
on tearing down all that it once built up;
and fights to raise up new wearers of crowns.
Sometimes, I’m in so deep,
so deep I want to drown
and find welcomed relief.
Life casually teeters on the sharpened edge
of prizes and superficial glory.
And I can’t look past the mirages, the lies
that captivate my soul’s weary eyes.
I can’t cut loose,
I can’t cut those ties.
It’s calling me, God.
This tragic world
that declares me king
just before
it spits in my face.
Where are you? To tell me it’ll be okay?
To drop the rope and take this grip away?
I know there’s nothing I’ve lost,
Yet it feels like I got nothin’.
No rock to which I may cling.
Come to me oh God, my Abba.
Come to me and carry me with you,
to the great garden you’ve promised
for my desperate faith.