Laughter and Lament: The Radical Freedom of Joy and Sorrow预览

The Sound of Silence We’re working so hard at controlling everything that it becomes the reason we’re hardly ever free. The psalmist often says that’s noise—maybe necessary noise. And after that, we’re told we should, “Be still . . . for God’s sake, just be still!” Psalm 46 begins with words often read at funerals: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.” Psalm 46 isn’t just for funerals. It is the essence of the peace and, thus, the freedom God’s people are to experience in the midst of the most heartbreaking and darkest lament. It is a statement of fact that becomes an anchor for the stillness the psalmist calls for later in the Psalm. It is the sound of silence. Being still and knowing that God is God sounds good, and even true and wise, but if you think that pulling that off is easy, you’re crazy. It’s like being told to forgive the person who just stuck a knife in your back . . . while that knife is still sticking out of the wound. Silence isn’t just an act. Like forgiveness, it’s a process. Telling someone to be still and know that God is God is rarely helpful when you want to scream. And, in fact, silence hardly ever happens until it’s all that’s left. There is a common saying among Christians, “Jesus is all I need, but I will never know that Jesus is all I need until Jesus is all I’ve got.” When I’m at the point of knowing that he’s all I’ve got, then—and only then—do I discover that Jesus is all I need. Being still and knowing that God is God usually never happens until that’s all we have left. It is a forced silence that becomes a surprising grace. In the silence that follows the spent noise of lament, the most salient act a Christian can do is to relinquish all that the lament is about. It is the recognition of three absolute facts—God’s sovereignty, God’s goodness, and God’s faithfulness. Relinquishment is followed by silence. In that silence is relief. In that relief is peace. And from that peace, believe it or not, there is great joy.