Psalm of Lament

The remains of my earthly father are buried in the ground.

The earthly remains of the one that used to hold me in his arms,

the arms that both shielded me from myself and the world

and tenderly embraced me in his love.

The remains later to be contained in a box that I could only clutch awkwardly to bring home for burial.

It was he who treasured me as his only daughter,

who served as my provider and protector in my youth,

who taught me to fish and garden,

who continued to love me in my rejection of him,

who wept when we walked down the aisle,

who accepted my husband as his own son,

who delighted in his grandson.

It was he who taught me to value family above work and yet to work hard and play hard,

who modeled integrity,

who showed no partiality,

who needed no limelight and did what was right with excellence especially when no one was watching.

I do not know where his spirit dwells,

for it was also he with intellectual pride and argumentation and resistance to the existence of the only true and living God.

I see my mother stoically moving forward with her life, her heart still hard, her eyes still blind after months of hearing the Word and the Gospel weekly.

She who carried me in her womb and bore me,

who held me and wiped away my tears,

who fed and clothed me as a youth,

who brought cupcakes on my birthday to school,

who imparted to me the enjoyment of fiction and baking,

who continued to love me in my self-destruction and disrespect for her, and continues to love me in my deep appreciation and attempts to care for her.

It is she who instilled in me a compassion for the less fortunate, and still models how to be generous and to be aware of my effect on others.

My heart aches. I want to spend eternity together with them. I want for them both to know the joy of salvation, to know You, my Triune Redeemer.

I want for them to know You, heavenly Father, my very life spring, the One

Who created the heavens and the earth with a word,

Who covenanted with a fickle people, parted the Red Sea for them, brought them to the Promised land, and promised them

a Messiah,

Who gave His only Son for our iniquities, for my iniquity,

Who is gracious and compassionate and merciful and just, and most of all, loving.

The One who sovereignly rules in perfect wisdom!

I want for them to know You, my Jesus Christ, the One

Who humbled himself enough to come down from the heavenlies,

Who was born in a lowly stable to a virgin,

Who had minimal material belongings and no place to rest his head,

Who was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief,

Who ministered to a world that would reject and betray Him,

Who died a humiliating death and faced the Father’s wrath that He did not deserve and then was torn apart from Him.

The One who rose again from the dead and conquered sin and death to bring us life!

I want for them to know You, Holy Spirit, to be indwelled by You, the One

Who raised Jesus Christ from the dead,

Who rose my heart from the dead and made me alive in Christ,

Who can raise my parents from the dead.

The One who convicts, enables, transforms, comforts, intercedes and groans when we cannot express our heart!

How do I move on? How do I not be paralyzed with grief and fear for my parents’ salvation?

I remember You, my Lord, my God, my Triune Redeemer.

I remember You as the Giver of these precious gifts to me, neither of whom I deserve, and the Giver of your life-giving Son

and Spirit.

I remember how You sovereignly worked over the ages in Your Word and in testimony.

I remember how You have worked in every minute detail of my life, continually sustaining me, growing my faith, and

transforming me into Christ’s likeness. You have worked miracles in my rebellious and self-seeking heart.

I remember for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are Your ways higher than my ways and Your thoughts than my


I remember to fear You.

I humble myself, wait for You, dwell in Your shelter, abide in Your shadow, and find refuge under Your wings. Bless Your Name forever and praise You on high.

Amen and Amen.


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