Psalm of Collective Lament: For Those Who Wait

Those of us in the helping profession often find ourselves in the position of carrying our own grief while packing and unpacking the burdens and griefs that we hold for many others. For me, there is often no way to process this sacred position other than to surrender those burdens to God in a psalm of collective lament. This is written for my counseling clients and for my loved ones who are facing the end of 2023 with grief, unmet expectations, broken or weary hearts – with loneliness. It is for those of us who thought we would find more clarity and finally get answers to our painful questions. It’s for those of us who thought our season of sorrow would be over by now. It’s for those of us who wait.

This is not how I thought it would feel.
I will not I cannot walk with expectation into a new year.
Instead, it’s as if I am drowning;
Waves crashing around me,
Engulfing me.
Instead of sending a lifeboat, you tether weights to my back.
I will sink soon, unable to resurface.
The waves continue to crash around me,
Bringing with them dark shadows that encircle me.
The shadows encompass me.
They surround me with emotion so dense that I can barely catch my breath.
Why, Lord, have you not lifted the weight by now?
I can’t keep my head above the water.

This is not where I thought I would be.
Why am I still here? 
Could you not have lifted me out of the valley by now?
I have been here so long that I can’t even envision level ground anymore,
Let alone a mountaintop.
I don’t even dare to hold out hope that I can escape these depths. 
I am not sure if I want out now.
Would I even have strength to climb out of this valley if given the chance?
Am I here forever?
Have you forgotten me forever? 
Have I been left alone?
It’s so quiet.
I can’t hear your voice.

It is worse than I thought it would be.
The losses keep heaping upon me.
The burden is too great.
I am crushed.
Don’t you see it? 
Can’t you hear the crushing of my bones – the demolition of my spirit?
I cannot bear this much longer, Lord.
You have promised not to leave me, but I feel alone. 
I am alone. 
I must be all on my own.
Connection is my plea. 
But loneliness is my portion.
It is harder than I can handle.

–

I am crushed. You have broken my bones.
Yet, in the darkness and underneath the quelling load of grief,
I’m not yet completely consumed.
In the midst of my anguish,
As I sit alone with just a broken spirit by my side,
Something arises;
A light so dim that my eyes can’t see it.
I can only faintly feel it.
It emerges from truths that have been collected inside my soul.
I call these truths to mind in the midst of the darkness.
This light, this truth…it changes none of my circumstances,
Yet, somehow it changes everything. 
The longer I dwell upon this light, the more my flesh and my heart rise up within me.

I’m seeing a bit more clearly.
I see now that I never needed to salvage and fight my way forward.
I needed to be rescued.
I was never asked to claw myself out of despair.
I was asked to surrender.
I was called to wait. 
I am being called to wait.
I wait. Inhale. 
I wait. Exhale.
I wait as he works within me what only brokenness could create.
I wait as he turns my cries of sorrow into a symphony of worship.
I wait and I hope in what I cannot see.
I wait for the mercies of a new daybreak.
I wait.
I wait for answers.
I wait for healing.
My soul waits for the Lord.