Starting Where We Are

By Joyce Ellis

When I was a young mom, I felt confused about how to pray. Growing up, I was taught we must always start all our prayers by praising God for how great He is. Bible teachers cited Jesus’ pattern prayer because it begins with a note of hallowing—praising—God’s name. And what a wonderful way to come into God’s presence! So I tried to begin each prayer and each prayer journal entry that way—praising God.

But frustration often gnawed at me when I tried to follow that pattern. Sometimes stresses took a toll on my praise life. A deep hurt or a heavy heart or some family catastrophe left me slogging toward God, trying in vain to praise Him. Some days, to be honest, I felt that praising God first was like trying to butter up God so He would listen when I finally got around to telling Him what I really wanted Him to know.

Now, after decades of following Christ, I have come to believe that if we’re going to use a prayer from Jesus as an example, we might also want to remember His prayer on the cross.

In three torturous hours, in total darkness, our Lord Jesus Christ suffered an eternity’s worth of punishment for the sins of each human being—past, present, and future. And in His infinite agony, He didn’t feel obligated to shower God with praises. He blurted out His true feelings: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46)—surely the most excruciating lament ever prayed.

In the blackest hole in all of history, He screamed out His pain, holding nothing back. He is, indeed, our example for the most honest, intimate outpouring of emotions before our Father.

And He allows us to “start where we are.” We, like the psalm writers of old, can write or voice our laments (complaints) to God—and He’s OK with that.

The Bipolar Book of Psalms

Some might accuse Israel’s hymnbook, the Psalms, of being bipolar or manic-depressive—swinging like a pendulum from ecstatic highs to suicidal lows.

King David wrote this:

I will exalt you, my God and King, and praise your name forever and ever. . . . Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise! No one can measure his greatness. Let each generation tell its children of your mighty acts; let them proclaim your power (Ps. 145:1–4, NLT).

But the same man, described in Scripture as “a man after God’s own heart”—perhaps partly because he wrote honestly from his own heart—also began penning a prayer this way:

O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long will you look the other way? How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day? . . . Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die (Ps. 13:1–3, NLT).

Scripture’s hymnal deals with life as it is, not as we’d like it to be. God created us with emotions as well as minds and bodies, spirits and souls. He walks with us in our feelings as well as every other aspect of life.

Complaints or Grumbling?

But if God wants us to express our emotions honestly (He knows them anyway), and if He sanctions complaint (lament) psalms by including them in Scripture, why did He get so angry at the post-Red-Sea Israelites for complaining? (See Exodus 15–16; Numbers 14, 16, 17; Deuteronomy 1:27, and Joshua 9:18.)

Attitude.

Attitude and direction.

The emotions weren’t wrong. How the Israelites acted in the midst of these emotions was wrong. In the passages above the Israelites engaged in heavy God bashing, grumbling against Moses and Aaron, against God Himself. They didn’t go to God with heart in hands and ask for help.

Imagine the mob psychology as they undoubtedly grumbled with one another and discontentment grew. Imagine the disgruntled Israelites sitting around, muttering under their breath. Imagine the volume growing louder and louder until they got the whole camp riled up.

What should the unhappy Israelites have done? What is the best way for us to handle things when we’re stressed out or deeply hurting or wondering why we’re wandering today’s impossible wilderness?

Griping God’s Way

The psalm writers give us some patterns—flexible patterns—for bringing our complaints to the right place: to God. Not only are lament psalms God-ordained and God-inspired, they also comprise the largest number of psalms in Scripture. And if we follow the biblical pattern for this type of psalm, we’ll find God-ordained riverbanks to channel our deluge of thoughts and emotions.

As I see it, the basic elements of a lament—or complaint—psalm break down this way:

1. Help! 2. Enough! 3. I trust You. 4. I choose to praise You.

Notably, almost all of the lament psalms end on a positive note of praise or confidence in God. But how do they get there? First, they allow us to start where we are—calling for help, fed up, at the end of our rope. Then we can get to the good part.

Turning Points

A former church choir director of mine delighted in pointing out obscure (to me, anyway) musical terms. One that stuck in my mind is the Picardy third. When a piece of music has been in a minor key and then strikes a major chord at the end, that switch is called a Picardy third.

I couldn’t help but think of this as I noticed some abrupt turning points while studying lament psalms. For lines and lines, we’re in a sad-sounding minor key. Then suddenly we hear a major chord of hope at the end. The psalmist happily praises God, affirming his trust.

It may take a while for us to get there. We may have to pour out a lot of anger and pain before the Lord can heal. But it’s a good thing to keep listening for the major chord He wants to strike in our hearts. In Psalm 13, David’s turning point comes in the passage following the portion quoted previously. He says, “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me” (vv. 5–6, niv, emphasis mine).

Sometimes we can’t find the freedom to praise until we’ve poured out to Him all our heart’s junk. And sometimes we may find release only by praying words of praise we don’t mean at the moment. Does that sound like hypocrisy? Perhaps it’s not.

A friend of mine, a former missionary, suffered extreme stress as her husband battled deep depression for months. One evening she had to get away, so she went out to their car and just sat there, singing over and over the praise chorus, “The Joy of the Lord Is My Strength.”

“I had to keep singing that song for a half an hour before my soul would believe it,” she admits. But as the truth of the song sank in, she gradually felt God’s peace, sufficient for another day. Her emotions soon followed the vocalization of her convictions rooted deeper than emotions.

That’s why I sometimes call the corporate Sunday worship experience my “attitude adjustment hour.” Sometimes when I arrive, I don’t feel like singing praises. But the deep reality of the truths about God transforms my attitude. Feelings follow.

That’s the turning point—the Picardy third—the major chord of hope in whatever minor chords fill our lives. Instead of complaining and grumbling to others, we can let our emotions slosh out to the only One who can do anything about our difficult situations.

Spiritual and emotional maturity develop as we begin to understand that conflicting emotions can coexist in the grace-filled arms of God.

So now, instead of trying to begin every prayer journal with praise, I start where I am. Sometimes I’m ready to praise my Creator as I look out my window at the stunning beauty of all He has made or as I revel in answered prayer. But I also have freedom, when needed, to honestly gripe—God’s way—before eventually finding my turning point of praise.

JOYCE ELLIS, author of more than a dozen books and hundreds of magazine articles, participates in personal and local-church prayer ministries. She also speaks to women’s groups nationally and internationally (joycekellis.com).