Lament and the Church: Part 2, in the context of worship

When we accept a theology of suffering there’s the question of how to introduce lament as a truthful, healing practice that leads us back to hope.

Worship leader and recording artist Brian Doerksen agrees that offering a space for lament in our worship draws us together as community, reminding us we’re not alone in our feelings of hopelessness and grief. Taking it one step further, Doerksen explains that censoring lament does the exact opposite. “It makes you feel alone because you don’t see or hear anything that represents your suffering or your struggle in the song selection of your local church.” He adds, “Community lament leads to relationship, and the censoring of lament leads to alienation.”

Whole worship

Back in the late 80’s, at the outset of his recording ministry, Doerksen struggled with what was being modeled by worship leaders of the day. Worship including only songs of joy and victory presented a lopsided truth; censorship of lament denied God’s people a whole picture of what we carry inside and bring with us to the table. 

One day, Doerksen received a clear directive for his ministry: “Lead worship with a whisper”, and “Sing over the suffering.” Those two God-given imperatives have remained part of Doerksen’s ministry for 30 years. “I’ve always tried to embrace more of a gentleness in what I do – [bringing] a tenderness is my way of interpreting the ‘whisper’… and then ‘sing over the suffering’ … I include honest and yet hopeful expressions both for the suffering, and of the suffering. For example, pre-COVID, when I would do a concert…before walking into the room, I would consciously remind myself, ‘Within this room are people in deep suffering, and those people need a voice … they need a song they can sing truthfully during this season of their soul.’”

Obeying this mandate, Doerksen’s often been pigeonholed as morose. This assumption, according to his wife, Joyce, is laughable. “People have no idea what a goofball you are,” she tells him. He is comfortable with, and conscientious about embracing the full range of human emotion in his own life and in the life of God’s people. Doerksen maintains that, as science and psychology teach us, it is impossible to selectively repress certain emotions: “You have to allow yourself to feel grief in order to experience joy.”

A dark pause

Psalm 88 ends with “… darkness is my closest friend”. Here, the psalmist acknowledges that grief cannot be rushed. It needs time. Doerksen adds, “We can’t force the hand at the change of the season.” Our most common service of lament is a case in point. We leave the Good Friday service in silence and darkness. The mood accompanies us out. We’re not yet ready to embrace joy, for death still has our Lord in its ugly grip. And so it is with seasons in our own lives. Sometimes ugliness is so prevalent, we can only grieve. Coming to Easter morning takes time. During the dark days of Advent (reflecting the silence of Israel’s prophets for four centuries), we wait in hopeful anticipation for the coming Light who will change everything. 

Last year Doerksen released his first Christmas album. He’d recently lost his mother, and included a song he wrote, The Saddest Season. The song expresses the sentiment that “Christmas feels wrong this year”.  Although he’s received gratitude for his honesty, he’s also received criticism, suggesting that the songs should conclude with the message that Christ has come, so all is well. Doerksen points out that the rest of the album contains the joyful message of Christ’s coming. But this song is a powerful reminder that the Christmas season is often painful for those immersed in grief or sad memories.

Matt Ewert, Pastor of South Abbotsford Church wonders whether our services recognizing special days of the year (Mothers’ Day, Fathers’ Day, etc.) should include space for lament, recognizing the vulnerabilities they carry. During December, one church in Ladner – Cedar Park – traditionally holds a special service in partnership with the local hospice. The community is invited to bring memories of loved ones, to decorate a tree with names of those they’ve lost.

Grief to hope

A full 40 percent of the Psalms include lament; of those Psalms, all but one (Psalm 88) end with hope, praise or worship. Still, the earlier verses of lament are not erased, for they, too are part of life; conflicting emotions coexist in authenticity and tension. This ought to be reflected in our worship experiences; to confess our brokenness, grieve together before our God, and look with hopeful longing for healing and redemption. In our journey towards wholeness, we express what we know of our God – his character and his ability and willingness to see us made whole. This moves us from lament to a living hope and deep worship.

Being heard and known

In speaking with pastors around the globe, Doerksen has discovered that most can’t remember when they last sang a song of lament in a worship service, much less held a specific service for the purpose of corporate grieving.  Churches at times become heavy with sorrow for a number of reasons; meeting together to cry out to God during these seasons can result in a beautiful expression of faith through the use of scripture, poetry, litanies, songs, prayers and silence. There are creative ways to name our sorrows and release them to our Healer. Instead of repressing our grief, expressing lament solidifies our faith and ignites our hope.

Rather than always being “answer people”, Doerksen states that owning our brokenness is a gift to the broader community and the world, an admission we’re all in this together – whether it’s injustice, economic depression, a pandemic, or deterioration of creation. Doerksen questions how one can sustain decades of being in a church where there’s no room to voice our suffering. “If there’s no healthy way of expressing it in the community of faith, we’re going to take it elsewhere, and we’re going to bond elsewhere,” he adds. This dangerous temptation is rerouted if we have a safe place to pour out our hearts and be heard. “We can be that for each other as a people of faith,” he concludes. 

Sidebar:

With touring and conferencing cancelled in 2020, Brian Doerksen has completed his first hymns project and 10^thsolo album, Hymns for Life, which will be available to the general public just before Easter. Doerksen says the album focuses on the themes of “the regenerative gift of creation, the help and peace of God in the middle of our storms, and Jesus’ tender voice of love … hymns that have brought comfort to people for generations.” In naming the album he adds, “I wanted to say that people turn to these hymns for every season of life, and even for dying – for crossing that threshold of death, that there’s still life there because of our faith in God.” Both his father and father-in-law have chosen a hymn to be included on the album, and his father, Harry Doerksen, at 84, adds rich vocal harmonies on four of the hymns. The Pacific Mennonite Children’s Choir is a featured guest on the album as well. One can’t help being impressed by the orchestral arrangements and full, warm vocals, illuminating a powerful message.

Earlier this year, Doerksen also released the EP, Everlasting Arms, his response to COVID-19. The songs acknowledge our confusion and fear in this time, that ‘we don’t know when this storm is going to break’. They point to God’s faithfulness and our hope in him.

Another first for Doerksen, a recently-completed Christmas Special, Christmas at Our House will be a streamed, ticketed event available from his website in mid-December. It will also be aired in parts of Canada on YES TV. Doerksen’s dad – who calls himself a ‘junior senior’ reminisces on the Christmas special – in a kind of ‘Christmas with Grandpa’ segment. Other guests include Marika Siewert, Ryan McAllister, Stephanie Esau, Brenda Janz and Teresa Trask.

Music and Christmas Special tickets (available in early December) available at briandoerksen.com.