With the dawn of December comes the blooming of the Christmas season. Lights are hanging, carols are playing, classes are ending, and carts are filling! With all the decorations and pageants, gifts and music, activity and excitement, it’s easy to forget that, for some, this is anything but “the most wonderful time of the year.” Many people—including many Christians—will endure this otherwise-celebratory month with a very non-festive limp, burdened with pain and frustrations, sadness and worries, fears and uncertainties. They will struggle to sing “Joy to the world!” and will, instead, seek space to groan, “Even so, it is well with my soul.”

As God’s people, we must understand how to navigate such desperation and help others do the same. Thankfully, in God’s kindness and wisdom, he has provided us guidance on how to do just that, how to turn deep lamentation into worshipful anticipation.

SERMON MANUSCRIPT 

November is officially in the rearview mirror, which means that we are unmistakably on the runway to Christmas. Lights are hanging, carols are playing, classes are ending, and carts are filling. With all the decorations and pageants, gifts and music, activity and excitement, it’s easy to forget that, for many, this is anything but “the most wonderful time of the year.”

I was reminded of this when I attended a “Blue Christmas” service a number of years ago. That December morning I sat in a room with people who were not feeling particularly festive. Many were grieving, unrelentingly assaulted with the reality that there would be an empty chair at the Christmas table that year. Some were wrestling with illness, pain, addiction, or estrangement. Others were lonely, melancholy, or stressed financially. 

This was a group of people who, at that moment, were struggling to sing “Joy to the world!” and, instead, needed a place to whisper “Even so, it is well with my soul.” They’d come together, steeped in brokenness, to be reminded of and to offer worship to the God who is still good, who is still present, and who still cares.

There are some in this room today who feel they should be in that room with those people. You’re hurting, frustrated, sad, and burdened. Well, God has a message for you today. And for the rest of us, whether we’re aware of it or not, we have people in our lives that are staring down the barrel of a trying month. God is going to equip us this morning to help them.

Please turn to Psalm 13, a psalm in which we find the inspired words of David battered by life, weary with disappointment, and desperate for aid. And, in their neediness, they call for help to the only one who can ultimately deliver them, and they trust him to do just that.

LAMENTATION

The passage opens with raw lamentation, the author complaining to God out of his own ignorance and pain. “How long?” he asks four times in two verses. “How long?”

And, while we’re not given the exact reasons for it, we do know that David was grieving: “How long shall I take counsel [or, be anxious] in my soul, having sorrow in my heart all the day?” It’s an unrelenting sorrow.

Jacob, the patriarch, used this same word to describe his potential heartbreak should he lose another son: “If harm should befall him on the journey you are taking, then you will bring my grey hair down to Sheol in sorrow” (Gen 42:38).

Jeremiah, the prophet, also used this word. After being tortured by a man who didn’t his message, God sent Jeremiah back to the same guy with even harsher words. Such was his ministry and, weary and afraid, he calls out to God: “Why did I ever come forth from the womb to look on trouble and sorrow” (Jer 20:18)?

The agony of burying children and the misery of living in mortal danger is something like what David, in Psalm 13, says he’s experiencing all day, every day. That’s lamentation. Some of us know about that, don’t we? We’ve felt the sorrow, the heavy heart, the anxious thoughts, the failing appetite, and the sleepless nights. We’ve endured distress waiting for deliverance.

In verse 2, David asks, “How long will my enemy be exalted over me?” But his main heartache isn’t that his nemesis is advancing upon him but that his God seems to be turning from him. Verse 1: “How long will you hide your face from me?” This is something God does to his rivals. Job complained to the Lord, “Why do you hide your face and consider me your enemy” (13:24)? 

So, David is losing to his enemies and the One he thought an ally, God Almighty, is treating him like an enemy. “With God, no enemy stands a chance. Without God, I don’t stand a chance.” You can see why he’s in despair; why he’s crying out: “How long, O Lord, will this season last? Until when, my God, will you allow me to anguish, to worry, to suffer, and to lose?” 

As the rest of the psalm will make clear, David isn’t accusing God as much as he’s confessing that he’s not God. He doesn’t have a fist in God’s face but a hand outstretched in dependance.

That’s lament. And while it may not be very Christmas-y, for many it is reality. Creation groans and we groan with it. We are burdened by our finitude and fickleness, wearied by temptation and tragedy, saddened by enemies and ailments. No one is exempt. Even the most mature Christians sometimes ask, “How long, O Lord? Where are you? What are you waiting for?” 

That’s lament. And it’s an act of worship because it’s in those desperate moments that the illusion of independence, the fantasy of invincibility, the mirage of strength, and the impermanence of self-help are all striped away, fully exposing the reality of our vulnerability, frailty, and mortality. It’s in those moments that we cry out: “God, I’m insufficient! You alone, can deliver me. O Lord, I need you. Oh, I need you! Every hour I need you! How long, O Lord?”

Waiting is always hard. It’s hard to wait. But when pain is added to the mix, waiting on the Lord seems increasingly impossible. But it’s also a unique alter on which we can place a sacrifice of dependancy.

SUPPLICATION

And that’s exactly what the psalmist does. His deep lamentation gives way to desperate supplication. [13:3–4] 

Out of his pain, the author asks God for three things. First, “consider me!” It feels like God has hidden his face, so David asks the Lord to “look” at him, to turn back to him. “Consider me and my pain! Regard me and my burdens! Gaze upon me, as a friend, not an enemy! Pay attention to me and my suffering!”

Second, “answer me! Reply to my cry!” Because it seems God has forgotten him, he asks to be remembered: “Consider me and answer me, O Lord my God. Respond to me and my pleas for divine help, relief, and safety!”

Finally, “enlighten me!” While he’s convinced that God has left him to the worrying counsel of his own soul, he seeks the wisdom that brings life: “Enlighten my eyes.” “Revive me, Lord! I don’t understand what’s happening, where you are, or where this is all headed. But I know that you do and that I need your help, your life, your perspective, and your power to endure.”

Can you sense the desperation in the supplication? You get the sense that if the Lord doesn’t consider, answer, and enlighten, the psalmist is in big trouble.

In fact, he says as much: “or I will sleep the sleep of death.” “Without your help I’m a goner, God. I’m not going to make it. My life, my heart, and my success is all slipping away without you. More than that, ‘my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my adversaries will rejoice when I am shaken’ (13:4). “If my life goes down, Lord, it seems to prove our critics right! They’ll dance on my grave and mock your power. So, deliver me!”

Have you ever cried out to God in this kind of supplication? Have you ever been so backed against a wall, so confronted with your own helplessness, and so overwhelmed with life that all you can do is feebly reach up to heaven begging the Almighty to take hold and lift you out of the darkness? 

I have too. There have been times in my life when I’ve said, “God if you don’t show up, I will sleep the sleep of death! I’m done for! I need you. Consider me that I may feel you! Answer me that I may hear you! Enlighten me that I may know you!”

ANTICIPATION

And just as lamentation gives way to supplication, so supplication can lead to anticipation. [13:5–6]

There’s no indication here that God has responded and that David has been delivered from his trials. Instead, it seems that he’s making a declaration of trust from the midst of the trials.

Though he was hurting, David hadn’t forgotten the goodness, faithfulness, power, and love of his God. No, he remembers times in the past that he “trusted” God and experienced God’s care—when he killed the lion, when he dropped Goliath, when he escaped Saul, when he was forgiven his own sins, and when he reigned over God’s people. Had God shown his lovingkindness, his loyal love, his covenant faithfulness to David in the past? You bet he had!

So now, even when the lions, Goliaths, Sauls, and sins seem to be winning the day, when God seems to be absent, David is committed to endure with confidence. While he’s still in the thick of it, he announces “my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord” (13:5b–6a). 

David knows he’s going to be delivered and he knows he’s going to celebrate when it happens. He knows he’s going to sing praises to the Lord. He knows he’s going to party because of providence. He knows that he’s going to declare God’s worthiness to be worshiped. How does he know? How can he anticipate such joy and such salvation? “Because he has dealt bountifully with me (13:6b). I know because he’s a good God who has been better to me than I deserve and will be in the future as well.”

And that’s true of you and me. If we have air in our lungs and a beat in our heart, God has been better to us than we deserve. More than that, God has shown his love to us through family, friends, shelter, and food. 

TRUST GOD IN THE TRIALS!

And that’s to say nothing about the salvation we have in Jesus Christ. Yes, our lives may be characterized by lamentation and desperate supplication right now but, because of Christ, they are never robbed of anticipation and we can—and must—trust God in the trials! We will be delivered, finally and totally. We will rejoice in God’s salvation. We will sing to the Lord, praising him for how bountifully he has dealt with us.

The trials are still real, though. So is the pain, heartbreak, and desperation. And sometimes these hardships are highlighted during seasons that are supposed to be joyful, seasons like Christmas. So, as I close, here are a handful of things that God is directing us to do in such times, and directing us to help one another do in such times.

First, lament biblically. There’s nothing wrong with asking God questions. There are over 300 questions in the book of Job, a book about suffering. Sometimes, all we can do is ask, like David did, “Why, Lord? How long, O Lord? Where are you, Lord?”

And this lament becomes worship when we ask these questions, not with a fist in God’s face but an open hand of dependance. It’s a declaration that we need him, that we’re weak and that he’s strong. Don’t hold it in, brothers and sisters. Lament biblically.

Second, pray honestly. “God, I need you now more than ever. I need your power, your wisdom, and your comfort. I’m coming to you because you’ve promised to hear me as a Father hears a child and because you’re the only one who can actually save me, who can enlighten me.”

So, we pray with specificity and sincerity. “Lord I have this enemy, this temptation, this need, this worry, this fear.” But, you know what? I have a few other things too, like access to the Most High God through a sympathetic High Priest and a church family who will surround me with intercession when I’m too weak to do so myself. Pray honestly.

Third, review gratefully. Look back and ask yourself, Has God been gracious to me? Has he delivered me? In what ways have I experienced his care? How have I trusted in his steadfast love? 

List the ways and brag about the ways that the God of the universe has “dealt bountifully with” you and use that as fodder for confidence and anticipation. To speak frankly, if you are saved, if you are in Christ, you do have far more reason to be grateful than to grieve, no matter the depth of your current trial. And that’s not to downplay the pain in life but to emphasize the gift of grace. Review gratefully.

Finally, wait knowingly. For the Christian, life may be tough right now but it won’t always be. There may be tears now but not forever. The sky may be overcast today but the sun will come out. Hopelessness may reign now but the blessed Hope draws ever nearer. Temptation may be winning some battles but it will lose the war. Opponents may overwhelm now but God’s people will overcome. Doubt may thrive for a season but 20/20 vision is coming. Death may sting now but it will be put to death.

So, we rejoice in our salvation and sing to the Lord, not because we don’t hurt today, not because it’s Christmas time and we must, and not because belonging to Jesus grants a pothole-free life. We rejoice and we sing—we trust God in the trials!—because we know what’s coming.

If you find yourself in a season of grief—you feel more like whispering “even so, it is well with my soul” than “Joy to the world”—lament biblically, pray honestly, review gratefully, and wait knowingly. And if you’re not in that season, know that there are people around you that are: lament with them, pray with them, review with them, and wait with them. This is worship worthy of our God. 

  

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