Litany for What Ails Us

This litany follows along with the week's Lectionary passages from Mark 4, Psalms 30 & 130, and Lamentations 3.

God, thank you for showing us over and over, in myriad ways,
That you care for us.

Even as Christ walked the earth in human form,
He healed ailments (1),
Brought life where death seemed imminent (2),
Cured diseases,
Welcomed little children,
Offered food for body and soul.

We are afflicted by so many sorrows and discomforts,
But you know them all.
We are brought low by various circumstances and particulars,
But you care about them all.

We suffer most when we distance ourselves from you.
We suffer most when we forget you.
Out of the depths we cry to you, God. (3)
Nothing about us goes unnoticed by you.

The steadfast love of God never ceases,
Your mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning;
Great is your faithfulness. (4)

You have taken off our sackcloth and clothed us with joy;
You have turned our mourning into dancing,
So that our souls may praise you and not be silent.
O LORD our God, we will give thanks to you forever. (5)

Amen

 

  1. Mark 5:29,30

  2. Mark 5:41

  3. Psalm 130:1

  4. Lamentations 3:22,23

  5. Psalm 30:11,12

Litany for Lament

God, our hearts are weary,
Broken, and sad.
Grief follows us;
Pain is our companion on the road.

We are divided: parents against children,
Brother against brother
Sister against sister,
Half-nation against half-nation.

The sins of our past have revisited us.
They were just beneath the surface,
Covered in a coat of whitewash.
We are newly aware of our complicity.

We mourn our blindness.
We regret our apathy.
We weep at the state of our world.
We wish we had done things differently.
We grieve the wrongs done by us and by others
And reap a harvest of shame.

We open our hearts before you;
We are vulnerable and at your mercy.
Let your will be done to us.
Refine us in your fire.

We purpose ourselves now to walk steadfastly and humbly
Through the chafing grief
And the ache of suffering,
Out to where the mercy falls. (1)


Notes:
Lament has a long tradition among faith cultures, Christianity included. Lament is simply being present to suffering and present to the expression of grief. Happy-go-lucky Evangelicalism has largely forgotten it, and has instead taught its followers to shame those who engage in it. I think we would do well to remember our roots, to go to the book of Lamentations, the book of Job, the Psalms, even to the lamentations of Christ himself (2).

Lament is an important part of the transformation of pain. Richard Rohr says, “If you do not transform your pain, you will surely transmit it to those around you and even to the next generation” (3). I think we have an opportunity here: to lower our defenses and allow ourselves to bear witness to our pain and that of others, and to stop disbelieving others when they tell us they are hurting because we are either a) disconnected from suffering (i.e. “stuffing it”) or b) consumed by it because we’ve never authentically grieved.

In terms of current events: Lament is not a partisan effort. On both sides of the political aisle we have a lot to lament. This isn’t new, but it does seem clearer now in the wake of the most divisive election of my lifetime. Maybe if we hadn’t forgotten how to lament, to really sit with grief and pain for a hot minute, just long enough to let it pierce our armor, instead of only ever reacting to them; we would not be finding ourselves in the situation we are in.

What I’m saying is this: authentic lament might be a checkpoint on the road to reconciliation. It might be one of the keys to transforming our collective pain into something redemptive and beautiful.

  1. “Where the Mercy Falls” is the title of a song by David Ruis and Bob Hartry.

  2. See Matthew 26

  3. Rohr, Richard. _The Naked Now_



 

Litany for Grief

I am hoping this prayer will be of use to those looking for resources for expressing grief and lamentation in a congregational or small group setting; but I also hope it will be helpful to some individuals experiencing personal grief. The opening lines are taken from a song I co-wrote called "I Cannot Live Without You" published by Vineyard, which can be found here.


God of Mercy, God of Tenderness, God of Nurture, God of Love
God-Provider, God-Comforter, God-Sustainer, God-with-us:
Be with us now in our mourning, and in our sadness.

We acknowledge that the only way out of our grief is through it.
We acknowledge that we must pay attention to our emotions in order to be whole persons.
We acknowledge that we would often rather avoid our sadness than pay attention to it.
We acknowledge that grief can be sticky, unpredictable, and hard to shake off.
We acknowledge that there are some mountains we cannot move under our own power.

Over and over, You have shown us that You are good, and Your love endures forever.
We know that You lovingly show us this often, because we are apt to forget.
We know that Your goodness does not necessarily safeguard us from pain. 
We know that our pain does not negate Your goodness.

Help us to walk faithfully through our pain and sadness.
Help us to engage in lamentation, in the tradition of the saints who came before us.
Help us to remember that our anger, sadness, disappointment, and grief do not put you off.
Help us to be moving forward:
     Toward growth
     Toward wisdom
     Toward emotional health
     Toward wholeness
     Toward reconciliation between our faith and our emotions.

We are helpless, and require Christ’s assistance.
We are undone, and require re-making.
We are brokenhearted, and require healing.
We are poor in spirit, and in need of the kingdom of Heaven.

Amen