There's an app for that!

I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. Job 7:11 (NIV)


Ten years ago these were the words of my mouth as much as they were Job's. I had experienced a deep disappointment and my soul ached with bitterness. I remember reading the Psalms as if I had never read them before. Whenever a psalm used the phrase "my enemies," I would replace it with the names of those who had hurt me and received a certain cathartic delight. It was the beginning of a healing process that I am deeply thankful for. Yet I often wonder if the journey might have been easier. Nonetheless most experiences into the depths of suffering and pain call for the courage to speak your grief, acknowledge your place as one with a larger creation - a God's eye view of life, and to be forever changed by the experience.

The Scriptures tell the story of God's relationship with creation and humanities' relationship with God. Complaining and being upset is a difficult aspect of relationships, especially when it comes to knowing how to express one's grief without harming others in the process. Scripture has "an app for that." The Hebrew people were not afraid to voice their complaints to the LORD about the problems of evil and suffering. Their verbal expression of grief make up a large body of literature in the Bible including parts of Job, Habakkuk, lament Psalms, Lamentation (the only book named after an emotion) and much of Jeremiah.

To apply this app to life, let’s begin with Job. Job complained bitterly to God about his suffering. He lost everything, his family, status, wealth, and all means of security and identity in one day. Then he was plagued by a horrific skin disease that left him living in a trash heap. His wife told him to curse God and die. His “comforters” told him it was his own fault. Yet Job would not accept their conclusions. He persisted in his innocence and begged God for a chance to present his case before God. Job got his opportunity, but quickly had nothing to say as God presented a series of rhetorical questions. In these divine speeches, Job realizes he cannot condemn God to justify himself. That he is just one among the many creations that delight our creator and that such a creator has given order to the chaos that is. God restores twice what Job lost and this time Job sees his life from God’s perspective finding delight in what he has, worrying less about keeping everything under control.

The text this morning is from the beginning of Job’s journey into suffering. Job was a man who tried to do the right thing. When his children threw a party, he would pray and make sacrifices for them, just in case they did or said anything that might offend the LORD. Job didn’t like messy. But life gets messy. A healthy pregnancy and birth can end with Sudden Infant Death, a waitress who never smoked a day in her life can die of lung cancer because of second-hand smoke from the job that had sustained her for 30 years, an honor student and promising athlete can be killed in a car accident the day before starting college. We know the messiness; some of us are living in it right now.

These are the moments we realize how little control we have over so much that damages our society and ourselves. These are the moments when God seems silent. St. John of the Cross referred to days of doubt and estrangement from God as “the dark night of the soul.” Henri Nouwen called them “the ministry of absence.” A. W. Tozer called them “the ministry of the night.” Others refer to “the winter of the heart.” These are the terms of deep spiritual transformation that are often instigated by the tragedy and absurdity of life events. Grief, rage, anger and fear flash to the surface of our consciousness. Where do we go with these feelings? How do we express them? Who will listen when we speak? Where is the app for this?

The value of Biblical laments becomes priceless in these moments. A lament is a cry to God with our doubts and our complaints against God. They give us the freedom and permission to be honest about our suffering and allow us to descend into the depths that is necessary before healing can occur. Both spiritual and psychological counseling traditions recognize that speaking our complaints creates a context for surrender. Surrender – the turning of our heart over to God, asking for mercy, and receiving God’s terms for restoration is impossible without battle. To put it simply, it is inconceivable to surrender to God unless we have first declared war against him. A lament is a battle cry against God that paradoxically voices a heart of desire and faith in his goodness.

Hear the battle cry of Job: “I can’t be quiet! I am angry and bitter. I have to speak.” Such words involve deep emotion. To speak your doubt and despair is truly asking, seeking, and knocking to comprehend the heart of God. Praying our grief is a passion to ask. A lament uses language of pain, anger and confusion and moves toward God. It is not mere whining.

Lament speaks the language of the shadow side of faith. The person who hears your lament is someone you deeply and wildly trust. Lament reveals the raw nerve of trust. It cuts through insincerity. You don’t lament to someone who could fire you or threaten a cherished relationship. You don’t trust them. You don’t believe they would endure the depths of your disappointment and confusion. You admit your complaint against God because deep down you believe and have faith in God’s faithfulness, grace, and mercy. By trusting God with our dark side, we share our deepest hurts and disappointments. We know that God won’t give up on us.

The apostle John wrote that when our heart condemns us, God is greater than our hearts and knows all things, and so we can quiet our hearts. In the book of Revelation the Lord says repeatedly to the churches: “I know” – where you live; your poverty, your tribulation, the slander you have to endure. In the Greek Bible, God is called the kardiognostes, the heart-knower.

The great heart-knower has suffered the depths of life’s tragedies. Whatever messes afflict and grieve us to the core of our being, God has seen it, known it, and taken it into God’s own life in Jesus who was crucified, who died, descended into hell, and was raised on the third day. The Old Testament is not the only place we find permission to speak our pain and bitterness for the New Testament bears the cry of God in anguish, doubt, and search. “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” The cross is the place for every human experience of hell on earth. God knows this; God has been there, and as a consequence we know that God can be trusted.

Mary Oliver in her poem “At Black River” writes: Then I remember, death comes before the rolling away of the stone. Our pain, sadness, and tragedies are often personal teachers that open us to fearless honesty. Like Job, we find a voice to speak our grief. In the depths of our despair the dark soil is laid for the growth of joy and healing. In doubt we live out our deepest expressions of faith. In our battle cry against God we seek truth as we have never done before. Our pain initiates a search, our anger clarifies the demand for relief, and our confusion opens our heart to change. Here we are transformed and truly known. If you are in the darkness of stone yet to be rolled away – there’s an app for that. Speak your bitterness and anger to the great heart-knower.

I close in prayer from Hymn 703 (ELW) “O God, Why Are Your Silent” by Marty Haugen:
May pain draw forth compassion, let wisdom rise from loss;
oh, take my heart and fashion the image of your cross;
then may I know your healing through healing that I share,
your grace and love revealing, your tenderness and care.