The day we received an official diagnosis explaining our daughter’s struggles, my husband and I cried. Actually, I literally wailed and groaned for at least half an hour before my own tears settled in alongside Larry’s quiet weeping.
Our cries were an expression of multiple thoughts and feelings storming our souls. It has always felt impossible to put that first hour into words. Sorrow, fear and confusion may have been the most intense and obvious emotions. But we also felt very alone. Surrounded by people who loved us, yet utterly and privately launched all alone into a completely foreign future.
At the same time, we felt relief. We finally had answers to what had already been an overwhelming situation for years. To some extent, we felt validated too. Some friends seemed to feel we were overreacting to Carly’s issues. The diagnosis affirmed that a missing gene was responsible for many of the ways she and our family were being challenged.
One thing I know. Carly’s diagnosis triggered a heart cry that special needs parents, families and individuals living with disability commonly understand.
O God, listen to my cry!
Hear my prayer!
From the ends of the earth,
I cry to you for help
when my heart is overwhelmed.
Psalm 61:1
In her new book, Singing in the Dark, music artist and songwriter Ginny Owens explains:
“The difference between lament and total despair is the invitation for God to come be with us. To intervene in our hearts even if he doesn’t intervene in our circumstances.”
My own sense of lament has ebbed and flowed throughout Carly’s 23 years of life. For example, Larry and I have felt more desperate and alone lately as we head into fall chronically sleep deprived and under-staffed. We’ve not had a single response to our job posting. It has been public for a month. We are not really alone in this. The caregiver crisis is a national one and jobs remain open in virtually every industry.
Stand firm against the devil and be strong in your faith.
Remember that your family of believers all over the world is going through the same kind of suffering you are.
1 Peter 5:9
My lament erodes into complaining and discontentedness at times. There is some weeping. And there are certainly days of outright groaning in prayer.
My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?
Why do you remain so distant?
Why do you ignore my cries for help?
Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer.
Every night you hear my voice, but I find no relief.
Psalm 22:1-2
Photo credit: GinnyOwens.com
Like so many special needs parents and others wrestling in the valleys of life, I tend to hold my lament close, believing it is a burden to others. I long to find healthy and godly ways to share it in community but finding safe ways and places is hard.
Ginny’s book has ushered me through the Bible with fresh and comforting perspective. In particular, she has insight about sharing lament within the context of church and corporate worship. Through her music, she has led masses of others through it. Having sold over a million records, performed hundreds of concerts, and led worship all over the world, Ginny’s vision for corporate lament is credible, inspiring, and proven.
Ginny has experienced plenty of fear and grief in her own lifetime. She has lived without sight since she was three years old. She also has an award-winning career as a Christian music artist that spans more than two decades. In 2000 she was the Gospel Music Association’s New Artist of the Year. She has gone on to win three Dove awards and multiple ASCAP awards while selling over a million records. Many of her songs speak to the sorrows and darkness any of us can understand.
There is one chapter in Singing in the Darkness where the beauty and opportunity of corporate lament comes into focus. Ginny writes:
“At our church, we have a Sunday each month when we set aside time for corporate lament. We have cried out to God about injustice. About the plight of the poor, the orphan, and victims of domestic violence. And for all the families losing loved ones during the coronavirus pandemic. I once led us in a lament for those with disabilities and chronic illness. We know in theory that God sees and cares, but when we collectively groan and grieve before God because things are not as they should be, calling on Him to be with us and to bring change, we are following David’s lead.
We live in a broken world. God wants our hearts to see and grieve that brokenness. To take it seriously and petition Him about it. To plead for healing, whether it seems on the horizon or not. And to seek His face… Until our lament becomes praise.”
Plenty of us are learning new ways to find emotional and spiritual strength these days. For many, navigating toward post-pandemic life is even more complicated than the early weeks and months when the pandemic first began. There is confusion, anxiety, frustration, disappointment, stress, and grief. Our hearts are aching for a renewed sense of community, safety, security, and hope.
For he has not ignored the suffering of the needy.
He has not turned and walked away.
He has listened to their cries for help.
I will praise you among all the people;
I will fulfill my vows in the presence of those who worship you.
Future generations will also serve him.
Our children will hear about the wonders of the Lord.
Psalm 22:24-25, 30
Praise Jesus, we have a God to cry out to!
And praise God for churches giving space for corporate lament. Because that is where faith has unique and God-ordained power to birth healing and peace.
WATCH Ginny Owens on the power of lament.
Lisa Jamieson is a caregiver consultant, pastoral counsellor and author of popular books and Bible studies including Finding Glory in the Thorns and Jesus, Let’s Talk. Lisa and her husband, Larry, live in Minnesota with the youngest of their three grown daughters, Carly, who has Angelman Syndrome. Together, the Jamiesons founded Walk Right In Ministries in 2008, a non-profit organization building faith and community with special needs families.
