There are moments when life feels overwhelmingly bleak. Moments when we cannot see God at work. Our theology is generally sufficient to know that he is active and good but, in our particular situation, we cannot see the progress of his plans. Nothing seems to be changing. Nothing seems to be improving. Justice – resolution – help – healing – hope – all seem deeply elusive.

Those feelings can appear on a personal level – maybe we have been subjected to some horror for which we have never received justice, maybe we have been accused of something unfairly and people are not seeing the truth. The feelings can appear on a corporate level – a church that is dwindling, a parachurch organization that is facing huge barriers to ministry, denominations facing disunity, families facing tragedy. We pray and pray, we labour hard – and yet nothing seems to change. Or if it does, it seems to get worse. It’s all desperately frustrating and hard.

Most of us hate situations like this. How we long for resolution or at least some small change for the better. We may know that God does not work to our timescale but how we wish he did – surely a loving saviour would want to bring a measure of relief sooner than this?

An old problem

Faced with situations like this, different people lean in different directions – we have done across time.

• Some pursue activism – if we just keep working and working, there will be dividends in the end. Some work is often needed but if that is the locus of our hope, exhaustion, burnout and an increasingly hardening heart often accompanies that path – with limited energy, we tend to ignore the call to love our enemies and focus solely on loving our friends.
• Others of us sink into despair – seriously, what is the point in carrying on at times like this? Every knock feels like further evidence that there is nothing worth holding out for.
• Still others just go through the motions. The Bible studies get led, the emails get answered, daily living gets engaged with, but it is just a job, just a role – the deep passion that once infused our heart is a distant memory.

A new perspective

The Lord sets before us a better path. Throughout Scripture, he gives us abundant evidence that even when his purposes are hidden from view, they are progressing apace. In the book of Esther, God does not even get a mention but as his people live faithfully and wisely, amid unrelenting pressure, he brings immeasurable good. In the book of Daniel, we know that quiet holiness brings dangers but ultimately the glory of God. The life of Joseph reminds us that God’s plans are not short-term, his view is across the ages – years of pain may precede his saving act. But the Lord is not asleep – every day is a day when he is at work and progressing his good purposes. Such stories act like giant signposts to remind us not to look down to today but up to the Lord who has promised resolution – often in this life, if not, in the next.   

A countercultural call

But how do we live in the meantime? Through a combination of speaking and silence.

Habakkuk knew the kind of pain we know. He was facing injustice from within his own country – terror from enemies outside. Nothing seemed to be changing, nothing seemed to be bringing hope. Even when God revealed his plans, there wasn’t instant relief – rather a sinking sense that everything was about to get worse. But Habakkuk didn’t just knuckle down – he didn’t give up – he didn’t become a shell of his formed self. He turned to the Lord in astonishing ways.

• Speaking lament. Firstly, Habakkuk asked God big questions. He poured out his heart. His prayers were not highly polished, gentle prayers but real, raw questions of “why?” and “how long?” (Habakkuk 1:2-4). He was not embarrassed to talk to God about the dissonances he felt between the God he knew and the circumstances he was in. There was no suppression or stoicism here, he turned to his Lord and spoke, confident God would hear.
• Waiting silently. But he did not get stuck in a narrative of despair. He expressed honestly and then waited humbly. Because the reality is, God is God and Habakkuk is not. God can be approached, he will receive our questions and our expressions of pain, but as we turn to him, we are confronted with his perfection and power. The fact we cannot see what he is doing, does not mean he doesn’t have a plan. Acknowledging this, gives us the ability to say, “OK – I’ll wait”. In Habakkuk terms, “I will stand at my watch” (Habakkuk 2:1).

A Christlike call

It is not just in the Old Testament we see this call. Jesus himself knew what it was to face hardship – horrors that we could never endure. He modelled to us the importance of spending time with his Father. The night before his cruel death, he poured out his heart and asked for the “cup” to be taken away (Luke 22:42). But he knew what it was to wait too. He waited in his earthly ministry, because “the time has not yet come”. His early followers too knew this double call. James encourages his readers to grieve, mourn and wail – and yet wait for the Lord to lift them up (James 4:9-10). Lamenting and waiting go hand in hand.

It is tempting to do one or the other. Just to speak of the hardship but not wait in trust. Or just put on a front of waiting but without being real with the Lord. The Christian life requires both. There is hope in lament and trust. On any given day, there is something worth weeping over – on every single day there is a God who is worthy of our all.