*You can read the previous post in this series here.
You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.
–Psalm 56:8, NLT
To wounded sheep:
Naming and grieving the losses you experienced under false shepherds helps you take the next step in healing and recovery. The longer the years at the church (or churches), and the more involved in community, the greater the loss. Some of my counseling clients raised their children, built relationships, served faithfully, and loved their church family for many years. Having community ripped away at the hands of false shepherds brings layers of loss. The additional pain of shunning and silence from long-time friends who choose to stay at the church only intensifies the grief and isolation. For some, losing a church community feels like experiencing the sudden death of a loved one.
Anger is a normal emotional reaction to evil and injustice. Psalm 55—a psalm of David– is helpful in expressing anger at betrayal from a “familiar friend” with whom “[you] used to take sweet counsel within God’s house” (vs 13-14). When Christian ‘family’ betrays you with “speech smooth as butter” while declaring “war” behind your back (vs 21), the pain is disorienting. In Psalm 55, after speaking the pain of familial betrayal, David expresses a desire for justice with these strong words: “Let death steal over them; let them go down to Sheol alive. For evil is in their dwelling place and in their heart.” The desire for justice expressed here focuses on stamping out—putting to death—the evil that led to family betrayal. This desire for evil to be destroyed is right and good. Jesus himself showed anger at the Pharisees who turned God’s house into something it was never intended to be—a place of using and abusing others for selfish gain (John 2). In Ezekiel 34, God expresses righteous anger when he declares that he is against the false shepherds who abuse the sheep, and he promises to destroy them and feed them justice (vs. 10, 16).
Anger also feels more powerful in the face of out-of-control experiences and often covers the deeper emotions of sadness and grief. Even though man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward and no one escapes tears—we Christians struggle to lament our losses. “Lament is not natural for us because every lament is a prayer . . . an honest cry of a hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.”[1] Lament begins with honesty—naming the harm we’ve experienced and how we feel about it—but it cannot end there. If we stop at naming the harm, we are left drowning in despair or wallowing in suffering. “Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust . . . It is the path from heartbreak to hope.” Lament leads us in expressing the grief, anger, and questions that suffering brings: “Why, God, would you allow such evil? Where were you? Do you even care?” But then guides us through the brokenness and disappointment to Jesus. In my own journey and my work as a counselor, I’ve found the transition from naming the harm to clinging to Jesus a difficult one. This transition requires us to let go of patterns of self-protection and learn to trust that unlike human shepherds, our Good Shepherd will never leave us and desires to bring us blessing, not harm.
In his book Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, Mark Vroegop breaks down the journey of lament into four parts: 1) turning to and speaking with God, 2) naming the harm you’ve experienced, 3) presenting a request, and 4) an expression of trust or praise. The book of Psalms is filled with examples of lament to help us as we speak our specific sorrows and find hope in Jesus.
In my own journey, I crafted my lament over both church and family trauma from portions of Isaiah 49 and Psalm 55:
Oh, Lord—can a mother forget the baby at her breast,
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Can a father cast off his daughter?
Yes, they can!
Lord, my parent’s rejection and slander is too much to bear!
No one seems to see or understand. I’m afraid of how my parents
and family members spew hate for me and at me.
Their public speech is smooth as butter, but there is war in their hearts.
Their words appear softer than oil, yet they are drawn swords, and I bleed.
I’m afraid you won’t protect me from their violence. I don’t know who to trust.
I don’t like living afraid of what man can do to me—
I’m always on edge, waiting for the next threat—
The email, the voicemail, the letter in the mailbox,
Of being called into another office by another pastor
Who doesn’t believe my story and sides with theirs.
I hate it—
All this fear and trying to protect myself.
I’m fatigued, I have vertigo, I can’t eat or sleep.
This is not living. It’s living death.
Please help me to trust that though my parents may forget me, You will not forget me.
You have engraved my name on the palms of your hands–
you sacrificed your life for love of me.
Your walls of protection are ever before me.
Though I am ruined and desolate,
Exiled and rejected,
I will trust your promise to contend with those who contend with me,
My oppressors, my family, my familiar friends,
So that all will know that you are truly my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer.
Through lament, you offer your vulnerability to Jesus trusting he will mend your broken heart and restore the years the destroyers—false shepherds—have eaten (Joel 2:25). Your pain produces a harvest of righteousness and peace as you offer it to Jesus and allow your heart to be shaped by his love.
To Helpers:
To be a safe place for grieving sheep, be quick to listen, slow to speak, and refrain from assumptions and judgments. Ask thoughtful questions to draw out the deeper waters of the person’s heart. Grieving sheep may say things like “God does not care!” Resist the urge to correct these emotional statements and draw near to empathize with the feelings of anger, abandonment, and loss. Biblical phrases like “God is good,” although true, are generally unhelpful responses that minimize the pain of the person in front of you. Be slow to Scripture until you understand the specific ways the Bible and biblical truths were utilized by false shepherds to silence and control the sheep in front of you. Psalms that capture both the emotions and questions of wounded sheep are a helpful place to begin. Psalm 77 captures the physical and emotional pain of trauma: “In the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted (emotional turmoil) . . . You hold my eyelids open (insomnia). I am so troubled I cannot speak (difficulty finding words).” Then the psalmist moves into wrestling and questioning: “Has the [Lord’s] love forever ceased? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Once wounded sheep trust that you will engage their questions and care tenderly for their wounds, slowly encourage with truths about who God is—present, good, angry at the evil done to them. Think of creative ways to communicate truths about God through song, art, poetry, and walks through nature. Slowly move towards reminding the person that God will bring justice in his time.
*You can read other posts in this series here.
[1] Vroegop, Mark, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy. Pg 26.
Pursued 