one year.

today marks one year since my dad died. one year feels like one week. i don't really know what i'm supposed to feel on this day, but the idea of "supposed to" anything somewhat bothers me. even after reading my fair share of books on grief, and after studying the different stages in some of my psychology classes, i don't really think there is any set way to move through grief. it's an easy lie to believe, that i'm not feeling or doing or being the right thing at this stage in the process. all that to say, there's much freedom on the other side of expectation.

i'm not much for cheesy cliches, especially in the christian culture. i'll go so far as to say that some scriptures have turned into cliches, because people throw them around without really knowing what they mean and expect them to work like some magic pill to take the pain away. romans 8.28? philippians 4.13? beautiful truths because of the God of whom they testify, but not healing ointments in and of themselves. and i think that's just it: the reason they've become cliche and overused is because they really do contain good truth when known and used in the right context.

i've had lamentations 3 in my head all day. it's the inspiration behind my dad's favorite hymn. it has always been one of my favorites, but it can lean towards being one of those "feel good" passages. so, i've decided to look into it a little more deeply today.

i recently finished a book called "a sacred sorrow: reaching out to God in the lost language of lament," by michael card. it was recommended to me and i would recommend it to anyone walking in grief. it explores biblical grieving in the lives of job, david, jeremiah, and jesus. in the section on jeremiah, it discusses the book of lamentations in great detail.

the book is made up of four acrostic poems expressing jeremiah's grief over nebuchadnezzar's annihilation of jerusalem. to this day, it is still read every year on the day of mourning for the destruction of the Temple. how cool is that?!

in the first two chapters, jeremiah grieves the loss of the city and compares it to a widow mourning the loss of her beloved. from despair, he moves to anger, even seeing God as the enemy.

oh, but then comes chapter 3. jeremiah makes an incredible transition. after exhausting himself out in lament against the God that has become his enemy, he finds a surprising hope in the midst of seeming hopelessness.

"so i say, 'my endurance has perished;
so has my hope from the Lord.'
remember my affliction and my wanderings...
my soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me.
but this i call to mind, and therefore i have hope:
the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
'the Lord is my portion,' says my soul,
'therefore i will hope in him.'" (v. 18-24)

"steadfast love" comes from the hebrew word "hesed." beautiful. expect more on that word in a later post.

so now, this "feel good" passage seems less about fuzzy feelings and more about a soul crying out with a deep sense of desperation. it's less about throwing around "hope" like a token word and more about truly understanding hope in God for all things after losing everything. the God who he had once seen as enemy is now the God that hears and sees his despair and chooses to join him in that suffering.

what a beautiful picture of desolation, realization, restoration. the book ends with pleas for God to restore and to remember them in their distress. isn't that the natural fear, that everyone (even God) will forget what has happened? yet His love never ceases. His mercies are new each day. Great is His faithfulness.