Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Suffering, A Prayer

Thou art great, and we are small.
  Thou art sovereign, and we are weak.
Thou art infinite, and we are finite.
  Thou art eternal, and we tarry but just a little while.

But with all Thy greatness and with all Thy power,
  Thou dost bend down low,
And listen to the sound of our tears
  As they strike the ground. ~ An old rabbis' prayer

In some previous posts I have mentioned that I am taking a class on worship and our professor, Dr. Derek Thomas, has encouraged us to write out prayers on various subjects so that we can think about how we would lead a congregation in prayer before a sermon. This is not so that we would memorize prayers but so that we would engage in the practice of "studied prayers" and be prepared to pray well before a congregation.

Below is one I wrote about suffering. I hope you find it helpful, perhaps something you can pray through, and perhaps a blessing to your soul.

Father, there are some of us here today that have a hard time singing many of the words in these songs of praise. Some of us here are hurting and have a hard time praising You. Instead of thoughts of joy, our hearts cry out like David did, "O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest." Suffering seems to be our lot in life right now. Tears have been our food both day and night, and, while we know You are there, You feel further than the moon. It feels like steadfast love has ceased. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain. Remind us that in all Your greatness and in all Your power, You bend down low and listen to the sound of our tears as they strike the ground. 

Father, we confess, it is difficult to praise You during this time. We confess, it is difficult to trust You during this time. We confess that we want to be in control. We confess that we are happy to praise You when we feel like we are in control and everything is going fine, but when we lose control—when the wind blows, when the storm is about to sink the ship, when the darkness is closing in, and when the giants are looming over us—it is difficult to bring our hearts to praise and say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." It is difficult to trust You. We want to trust Your heart, Father, especially when we cannot trace Your hand. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain. Remind us that in all Your greatness and in all Your power, You bend down low and listen to the sound of our tears as they strike the ground. 

Father, our minds fail us during times like these. We know that You are sovereign over everything in this world and we know how much You love us, yet we cannot understand how this suffering can be worked out for our good. How is it that hope can come from suffering? How is it that sharing in Christ’s suffering means also sharing in His comfort? When we try to wrap our mind around why this is happening, we simply cannot understand. Where shall wisdom be found? And, where is the place of understanding? We feel like Peter and the other apostles in John 6 who were temped leave but had to admit, "To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." Even though our minds fail us, Father, we know we have nowhere else to go. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain.

The darkness feels like it is closing in, Father, but help us not to doubt in the dark what we have known to be true about You in the light. Help us to remember Your deeds, Father, to remember Your wonders of old. Help us to ponder all Your work and meditate on Your mighty deeds. Help us to say to our souls what the psalmist once said thousands of years ago, "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and what are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God." Help us to remember that even when You seem further than the moon, You are not far off. In fact, You are closer than our skin.

Father, I pray those of us who are not suffering right now can be a comfort to those who are. Help us, Father, to not trivialize or "spiritualize" their grief. Help us to suffer with them, to grieve with them. Help us to be present with them in their suffering, even if we do not know how to help. Help us to be able to listen as they struggle and support them with prayer and love. Father, we want to help them mourn but not as those who have no hope. Help us to be able to mourn with them as those who have hope—hope in Jesus, in heaven, in the new heavens and earth, in Your steadfast love, in Your promises to work out all things for our good, in everlasting glory.

Father, we pray all these things in the name of Your Son, whom You put forward as a sacrifice so that we can have hope—Jesus. Amen. 

By His Grace,
Taylor

2 comments:

Lucy Abbott said...

Thanks Taylor for posting this. It sounds like you've experienced something tough and are not just speaking theologically. I really like the last paragraph. I hate it when people "spiritualize" grief as if we should've gotten over it quickly because "God works all things together for our good." I like how you put it that we mourn as people who *have* hope but we still mourn.

A. Taylor Rollo... said...

Thanks for your comment, Lucy. Grief is not something foreign to me, which is why I want to emphasize that we cannot treat the gospel like a magic wand that immediately alleviates suffering. I like what C. S. Lewis once said, "Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand." Generally people who try to apply biblical truth like salve do not understand. We still mourn but we mourn with hope.

I have made some similar comments in my review of C. S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, which you can find at this link http://a-short-saying.blogspot.com/2011/11/book-review-grief-observed.html or by looking at the posts under my "grief" tag.