The hearts of the people
    cry out to the Lord.
You walls of Daughter Zion,
    let your tears flow like a river
    day and night;
give yourself no relief,
    your eyes no rest.

^ Arise, cry out in the night,
    as the watches of the night begin;
pour out your heart like water
    in the presence of the Lord.
Lift up your hands to him
    for the lives of your children,
who faint from hunger
    at every street corner. (Lamentations 2:19)

Let it be said to those who eagerly talk of God’s sovereignty, his judgment, or the power we imagine we have to quell the cruel hearts of men, that our first response should be mourning, weeping, and lament. Here’s Michael Card again:

“The degree to which I am willing to enter into the suffering of another person reveals the level of my commitment and love for them. If I am not interested in your hurts, I am not really interested in you. Neither am I willing to suffer to know or be known by you.”

Card uses a curious phrase to describe the labor of lamenting. We “exhaust ourselves” upon God. “The self, exhausted of its emotional energy, seems to collapse into the Presence of the One who was there, seen or unseen, all along.”

We see this as David laments the unanswered evil of his enemies when they attack him in Psalm 109. For 10 verses David calls down curses on his enemies: “May his days be few/may another take his place of leadership.^ May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow.” Those are the mildest of the curses. He pours out his anger and his grief:

For he never thought of doing a kindness,
    but hounded to death the poor
    and the needy and the brokenhearted. (Psalm 109:16-7)

 David doesn’t just grieve for the injustice done to himself. He enters into the sorrow of those who have been wronged. We should do likewise. Exhausted with cursing, David seems to finally arrive at the Presence of God himself. I love what Card says here, “Perhaps these psalms were the only thing that stood between David and the revenge he would have taken.”  Whatever the case, what David  pleads for–what his whole being pleads for–is God’s loving kindness, his covenant faithfulness.

But you, Sovereign Lord,
    help me for your name’s sake;
    out of the goodness of your love, deliver me.
^ For I am poor and needy,
    and my heart is wounded within me.
^ I fade away like an evening shadow;
    I am shaken off like a locust.
^ My knees give way from fasting;
    my body is thin and gaunt.
^ I am an object of scorn to my accusers;
    when they see me, they shake their heads. (Psalm 109: 26-9)

The English has only the tired and overused word “love” as the English Standard Version renders it “help me . . according to your steadfast love” but the Hebrew hesed is rich with meaning and pregnant with context.  It is the term used for God’s unrelenting often extravagant love and kindness for Israel according to his covenant with them.

Could you imagine if Christians were know for this kind of mourning for the poor, needy, and brokenhearted rather than one more shrill voice offering easy answers? If there is ever a reason that the secular society will have to wrench us out of their preconceived mold, it will be when we love those with which we passionately disagree with an equally passionate, fierce, unrelenting love.

A love that begins in lament.

I leave you with the prayer of French Reformer Eugene Bersier:

Thou Who Art Love, and Who seest all the suffering, injustice and misery which reign in this world, have pity, we implore Thee, on the work of Thy hands. Look mercifully upon the poor, the oppressed, and all who are heavy leaden with error, labour, and sorrow. Fill their hearts with deep compassion for those who suffer, and hasten the coming of Thy kingdom of justice and truth–Amen.Ω