Joy-Elizabeth Lawrence

In Part 2 of this two-part blog, Joy-Elizabeth Lawrence shares two examples of bridging public lament with biblical lament, and some useful suggestions in writing your own laments.

Biblical lament is not only asking the questions “why” and “how long,” it directly addresses the questions to God. It also often includes references to God’s past rescuing, and asks God for help.

This is what we, the church, may need at this time—to sit, silently, in the presence of God.

Jesus doesn’t forget those who are forgetting or have forgotten, nor those who are themselves forgotten, and neither should we. Joy-Elizabeth Lawrence shares five tips for leading worship in memory care residences.

Glo-o-o-o-o-ria, in excelsis deo, we sang, responding to Luke’s narrative of the angel army proclaiming the birth of Jesus.

Taking a well-tread path is good if you’re avoiding a bad surprise. But it is not good if you’re open to good surprises. This is true for worship planning, too.

By cultivating a culture that learns and tells biblical stories, we are writing them on our hearts, allowing the Spirit to use these stories in our and others’ lives.

There are some ideas I can’t get out of my head, even if they might not be very good. One idea is that it could be fun to play with pots and pans in a pool. I know this is a bad idea, ridiculous, in fact, but it still floats to the surface of my psyche at times and I push it back down, like a Dutch oven sinking to the bottom of the diving area.

Other ideas are less ridiculous.

Several of them are even liturgical.

Two weeks ago, I played the hymns for my grandmother’s memorial service. My uncles, father, and aunt had quickly gathered to plan the service, which was held only five days after her death. I wanted to serve my family and Grandma, and thought this was a good way to honor and remember her.

But I am thankful I pushed the microphone away from the piano and asked my brother-in-law to lead the hymns. Because during the final hymn, I choked up.

Right now, people are talking about the intersection of worship and work. Is corporate worship simply a place to leave our troubles at the door and refuel in the presence of Christ? Or is it a place wrestle—in the presence of God and fellow believers—with the challenges that face us in our weekday vocations?

Several years ago, I wrote a prayer for Thornapple Covenant Church to use during Advent. It is based on the meditation exercise called “palms down, palms up” in Richard Foster’s classic book Celebration of Discipline.

In this meditation exercise, Foster encourages the Christian to pray with palms down in a prayer of relinquishment and surrender. (It helps me to hold my hands in the air, rather than on my lap, imagining that God’s hands rest under my own.) Then, turn palms up to demonstrate your desire to receive.

I can’t wait until November. I’m American, and if you haven’t heard, we are preparing for a general presidential election. During a debate in March, I realized I was tired of the primaries. During the Democratic National Convention, I realized that I was just plain tired. I am tired of the war of words, the hatred, the ideologies. I am tired. I wish November would hurry up and get here, but I’d miss three months of my children’s childhood and my garden’s tomato harvest, so it’s probably not worth it.