A Lament for Our Children Part One

I see you, blossom of mine, in the darkness.

…my companions have become darkness. 

Psalm 88, I Cry Out Day and Night Before You, verse 18

Our children want to die, and their companions have become darkness.

We thought that if we did everything right, if we trained them in the way they should go, if we instructed their hearts in Truth, they would be safe.

Such cruel untruth.

I am aware at this moment of no less than eight children who have had suicidal ideations or attempted to take their own lives in recent weeks. Their parents are all Christian leaders whom I know and love, people who live the gospel. The mental health crisis among our children is growing in strength and velocity. Like the Psalmist, we are in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep.

Some parents have lost children to the darkness.

The children of the faithful are not immune to the darkness. They do not exist in some existential holy bubble that keeps them from harm. They live in the world, as we do, even as we pray the words of Jesus, My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one (John 17:15).

Once we understand we are not exempt, we can take a better look at the problem at hand.

Too many children are sinking in the mire.

I know no better way to bring ministry to a halt than to threaten our children. The enemy of our souls is merciless.

Depression and despair are casting their shadow over the Church steps. Darkness is worming its way into Christian families who serve the poor, the displaced, and the needy. It is overshadowing years of good training, careful instruction, and fervent prayer.

Rachel can be heard weeping for her children. The sound of lament is rising like a dirge, grievers watching the slow death of their children’s joy, personalities, and interest in living.

Psalm 88 is for those who mourn. Unlike other laments, this complaint does not end with a declaration of faith. Instead, it ends in darkness.

Sometimes all is dark to us. We are so choked with sorrow and worry for those we love, we cannot end our lament with a declaration of faith. Our soul is simply crushed, full of troubles. We can see death drawing near (Psalm 88:3). We are overwhelmed, shut in, and our eyes grow dim (v.7, 8). It seems God has hidden His face from us and our children.

But here is good news, parent: God has appointed light to rule the darkness. It is, in fact, light’s purpose (see Genesis 1:16-18). #mentalhealth Share on X

Psalm 88 declares you are not alone, mother. You are not on your own, father. There is help, grandparent. You are not without hope, child.

There are others here in the darkness with you.

Together, we can lament. We can cry out day and night until Jehovah Sabaoth, Lord of the Angel Armies, rushes forth from His dwelling place and fights for our children. We can pray until our voices are hoarse and our guts ache from the sobbing. We can weep until the weak become warriors.

We can flee from the bow, straight to the banner the Lord has set up for us on the battlefield.

You have set up a banner for those who fear you, that they may flee to it from the bow. That your beloved ones may be delivered, give salvation by your right hand and answer us!

Psalm 60:4

Don’t try to do it alone.

Run with me. Run to His banner today. For as surely as the sun rises and sets, so does His banner fly over the battlefield for our children’s lives.

 

A Parent’s Lament from the Darkness based on Psalm 88

O Lord, God of my child’s salvation,

I cry out day and night before You;

Please listen to me!

 

For my soul is overflowing its banks with trouble;

I feel like I might die from the pain.

 

I want to scream; I want to wail;

I want to grab Your face and pull it close to mine,

And implore You to listen.

 

I want to lie on the ground and pound its solidness

With my fragility,

Until it quakes in its fearsome strength,

And responds to my groaning sorrow.

 

I have no strength,

Yet I have no choice but to be strong.

 

You are sovereign: all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful.

Oh, how I have seen Your breakthroughs in my life!

I have declared in the great assembly how wondrous are Your deeds!

 

But I don’t understand why You have put my child in the depths of the pit,

In the regions dark and deep.

 

Your will is like a killer storm,

And I am swept under its billows like a drowning man.

 

My companions shun me;

You have made our family a horror to them.

It must be their fault,

They whisper,

Even as they nod in simulated sympathy.

 

I am shut in, suffocating from fear

My child might die.

My eye grows dim with grief.

 

Every minute, every hour, I call upon You, O Lord,

Begging You to save my treasured one.

 

Why do You hide your face from me?

Your face is where I find joy

To keep going.

 

I need Your face

Like I need air

To live.

 

I can do this if You will look at me, Lord.

I can persevere.

I can keep praying

Waiting

Hoping

Interceding

Trusting

If You will look at me.

 

Then Light will rule this darkness

And we will all live.

 

–By Audrey Frank

Starting in April, I will be facilitating a time of lament for grieving parents. To learn more, sign up here.

@audreycfrank

Photo by Daniel Apodaca on Unsplash