The Sufficiency of His Grace
A month or two ago, one of my lecturers gave me and my classmates the task of writing a Biblical-style lament. We were told to put to paper our pleas to God, asking why He has allowed life to happen this way.
And so we wrote poems and songs and prayers that cried out to God. And for whatever reason, I found it surprisingly easy.
The next week in class, we were given the oppurtunity to share our laments with one another. And as I shared my lament, others spoke of how they felt it gave voice to their thoughts, how it allowed them to feel less alone in what they were going through.
So, I want to use this space to share my lament publicly, and then give some reflections upon it. If these words can help others express what they are going through, then that is more than I could have ever hoped for.
This is my lament:
but right now.
I’m sure You hear my words, my thoughts
but I want to tell You just in case.
I want to tell You how I’m scared
to approach Your throne.
I want to tell You how often
I hesitate to pray
when life gets overwhelming.
I want to tell you how I’m scared
and I don’t know what
I’m doing with my life
and I feel like I’m
stumbling around in the dark.
O God, I’m scared.
I’m so damn scared.
It scares me how easily these
words come to me,
how they sit, waiting to be put
to paper,
how when I close my eyes
life becomes easier,
how I long for silence:
for true and proper silence.
You say Your grace is sufficient
but right now I’m struggling to
see it.
I am no more than a
dancing cadaver:
evidently, distinctly
dead.
So all I dare to ask is
that you would breathe life
into this ancient
Adam.
Three quick reflections:
1. When I protest His grace
Over the past few years, I’ve had various struggles with mental health. It’s a lot better that it once was but I’m not sure it’ll ever be perfect. Even now, I find it nearly impossible to concentrate when sitting in a crowded and noisy room. It takes a lot for me to focus when there is too much going on around me. And in all of this, I have been provoked to relfect upon my response to God’s causality.
I am very much a product of Aussie culture. I love my autonomy. I love being in control of as much as I can. And so, when things don’t goes as planned, I really struggle with that. For a long time, I protested how God chose to work in my life. I didn’t like how He chose to work. At times, I still don’t like how He choses to work. Yet, He is gracious. He shows me loved in the depths of my protesting and wrestling.
In Psalm 42:7-8, the psalmist writes, “Deep calls out to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls. All Your breakers and waves have swept over me. By day Yahweh ordains His covenant love and loyalty, and by night His song is with me - a prayer to the God of my life.”
There is so much happening in those two verses. But at the heart of them, there is such beauty. The psalmist speaks of how it is God who is the makers of the waves and breakers of life as well as the one who pours out his promised love to His people. Yahweh, the covenant God of the Bible, the one who says He is good, the one who says He is love, controls the chaos.
This is something I have really struggled with. It doesn’t sit comfortably in my heart. And yet, one question plays over and over in my head: does it have to? To be entirely honest with you, I’m not sure it does.
2. A voice for the voiceless
The thing about lament is that we all do it some way or another. It’s just the shape of it that may be a bit different for each of us. Whether we talk to our family about what is going on around us. Or turn to our friends because we don’t think family would understand. Whether we write it down in journals to keep our minds less cluttered. Or we internalise it, bottling up until it all spills over in one big mess.
Lament is part and parcel of the human experience. Normal lament is from people to people. Just take a look at the songs of our culture. So many sing of heartbreak and loss. We share a common voice and so we express it to each other. The specifics of our personal experiences may be different but the sentiment behind them is nonetheless the same.
And yet, when it comes to Biblical lament, there is something distinctly different about it, namely, its direction.
Biblical lament is from people to God. From the creation to the Creator. The Psalms are filled with laments. Whether its about being oppressed by enemies, or feeling alone and lost, or chronic sickness. At the heart of each of them is a cry to God.
The beauty of Biblical laments are that they give a voice to the voiceless. When we so oftern fail to find the words we need to say, they so often have already said them. When we struggle to express what is going on, they speak into that space.
But what is even more beautiful than Biblical laments just giving a voice to the voiceless is that Jesus himself used the laments from the Psalms to cry out to the Father. This is no more clearly seen upon the Cross when Jesus cries out, “My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me?”, invoking and embodying Psalm 22. Knowing that the Saviour of the World cried out with words I have cried myself is stirs my heart beyond what words can describe.
3. The Sufficiency of His Grace
To be able to lament in the midst of knowing the sufficiency of God’s grace is one of the most beautiful parts of the Christian life. At least for me anyway. During my devotional time last week, I was reading 2 Corinthians 12. One verse stood out among the rest.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. - 2 Cor 12:9
The sufficiency of God’s grace. So much encompassed in just 5 words.
Grace that is sufficient to restore broken relationships.
Grace that is sufficient to give the voiceless a voice.
Grace that is sufficient to empower me in my weakness.
Grace that is sufficient for all of life.
I’ve been a Christian for nearly 11 years now but every time I dwell upon the reality of the grace of God, my mind is blown. I find it nearly impossible to fathom that the Creator would die for the creation so that relationship can be restored. I struggle to wrap my head around how I am given a voice to speak when I feel I have none. And I am constantly amazed at how entirely sufficient the grace of God is for all parts of my life.
You say Your grace is sufficient
but right now I’m struggling to
see it.
I am no more than a
dancing cadaver:
evidently, distinctly
dead.
So all I dare to ask is
that you would breathe life
into this ancient
Adam.
Amen.