In the 1980’s a new genre emerges that will change music radio. That new genre we now call rap. 

Rapping essentially involves the speaking or chanting of rhyming lyrics, often set to a beat. The rhyming created by rappers is considered by many to be one of the most sophisticated styles of poetry. What’s more, these rhymes often address provocative subjects such as sex, violence and socio-political issues. 

What’s interesting though is the content. 

The majority of the content revolves around a group of people lamenting the injustice and pain that is spilling over into their communities. 

NWA and Run DMC and others were creating stirs all over the country. 

They had songs with lyrics like, “ Searching my car, looking for the product Thinking every (black man) is selling narcotics. You’d rather see, me in the pen than me and Lorenzo rolling in a Benz-o” 

What was happening during that time era was that a community of people were experiencing deep injustice and pain. 

And they were being told to be quiet. They were told their voices didn’t matter. 

I wonder, have you ever told someone something you were struggling with, were just totally open and vulnerable and they responded with something like, “Wow, that sounds crazy…” or they tried to hush you— “Dude, keep your voice down— we don’t talk about those things here. We don’t ask those kinds of questions.” 

Even though the reality is we’re all thinking it, we’re all aware of it we often are hushed. 

But that’s just it— when you give something voice— when you give it a name it creates a deep unease with people and communities only interested in keeping things safe— and safe for them often means they have control. 

In that era, mid 1980’s Vice President Al Gore’s wife saw the messages of these rappers extremely threatening to the status quo. She saw their lyrics and style and labeled them evil desiring to silence these artists. 

What she helped create was what we know today as the Parental Advisory Label. 

What was interesting about this was that they went after Walmart who eventually caved and told the music industry www won’t sell your music unless you bleep out certain words. 

And what happens is that the entire message begins to lose some momentum. 

Now I’m not arguing whether certain words are right or not to use, what I’m pointing out is that these words, these lyrics, they are all part of a deeply powerful message from a group of people who were experiencing deep suppression. 

They were watching as their younger generations were choosing dealing drugs and gang life because it was the only possible option they had inside their ghettos. 

They were watching as their brothers and sisters were murdered and the police and political system did little to nothing to promote change. 

And so they did what we all do— they started lamenting. I would argue Gore and others missed the point. 

What if rather than being disgusted by the lyrics and choosing to punish these messengers; we chose to look deeply at the issues these songs of lament were describing and work with these hurting people to promote change? 

What if I was more fired up over the mistreatment of a people than over some lyrics that are being used to convey the gravity of the issue? 

What if we understood the reason for the lament? 

There’s this book in the old testament— it’s essentially a hip hop album. 

There’s this group of Hebrews who have watched as their entire community has been wiped out before their eyes. 

They watched as their families were struck down right in front of them by the Babylonians. 

They watched as their people prayed and still their people, their temple, their entire way of life was destroyed. 

They watched as their daughters and sons were lead away in chains and marched hundreds of miles on foot. 

And now— now the tribe of Judah stands in the rubble and they cry out— they shake their fists toward heaven— they curse— they scream— they morn—they lament. 

Lamentations 1:1-3 gives some powerful voice to the lament. 

1:1 How lonely sits the city That was full of people! She has become like a widow. Who was once great among the nations! She who was a princess among the provinces has become a forced laborer!

Israel is described first as a woman — and in verse one we see she is feeling betrayed. 

This is the moment Israel is saying— we believed in you God. We felt we were being a good bride, we thought you were good— why would you leave us? 

Ever have these moments? You’ve heard all the nice miracle stories from everyone else— but what about you? Why is it God seems to be absent from you when you need Him most? God answers everyone else’ prayer but for you— the Divine sits quietly unaware of you. 

How did you handle those feelings? Did you tuck them deep downside and tell yourself to have faith— whatever that means. 

Or did you, like Israel, like Run DMC— give it voice? 

Did you cry out to God? Did you morn? Did you ask for help? Did you give your pain a voice, a lyric, a beat? 

Israel is feeling abandoned— they are screaming out that this is not fair— it’s unjust! 

1:2 She weeps bitterly in the night And her tears are on her cheeks. She has none to comfort her. Among all her lovers. All her friends have dealt treacherously with her; They have become her enemies.

Ever have these moments? It’s gotten bad and now that stuff has gotten real— you allowed some people in— you may have given it voice— people begin to get a little uncomfortable when you talk about your pain, your therapy, your abuse, your addiction. 

Why is it that when people start opening up there is a group of people that attempt to silence their voices? 

Could it be that they are doing this because those voices make them acutely aware of their own issues— you know— the stuff they are terrified to give voice/ lament to? 

I have this response to movies that I inherited from my dad. 

I grew up in a family where we stuffed our emotions deep down and didn’t really talk about them— which is probably why I’m now constantly sharing them with you. 

When we would watch movies there would come a moment in the film where the couple who stop and deal with the conflict— and it’s exactly at that moment my father physically squirms. He gets uncomfortable so in comes the jokes and awkward “Oh boy— here we go again” comments. 

And it wasn’t until years of dating Danielle that I realized I did the same— and the reason? I didn’t want to have to deal with my own issues— pains— laments. 

I wanted to pretend the issue wasn’t there and so I created these awkward yellow labels I’d place over every uncomfortable moment — my label to silence the uncomfortable was jokes. 

Because let’s be honest— voicing your issues, your pain is uncomfortable. 

I’m not writing about complaining— I’m writing about learning not to stuff the injustice, the anger, the pain down but learn to give it voice so that the repair can begin and the new season can be ushered in. 

I can’t tell you how many people I talk to on a regular basis, who I know are struggling deeply, just exhausted, are totally unwilling to admit there is a problem— that maybe they’re not ok. 

I think we do this because once the lament is raised— once the voice is heard— it can’t be taken back and for some that is terrifying. 

It means that there is now someone aware of your brokenness. 

And really, we’re now looking at a process that begins once lament is voiced. Once the lament is heard there is so kind of action isn’t there? 

Unhealthy responses often look like this:

We Silence Them:
In faith communities I’ve seen unhealthy responses much like Tippers. The person makes a comment, stood up for something they believed, went against the norm, shared their pain after a loss, and now that it’s out there people are uncomfortable and the very presence now of this person causes them to feel uncomfortable. So— we’ll ask the pastor to leave. We’ll stop inviting the divorcee mother to social gatherings. We’ll be so uncomfortable with the person who’s lost their loved one we distance ourselves from them. We’ll hug everyone on the way out except for her— she’s not welcome here. 

But then I’ve seen others.

Embrace Them:
I’ve observed communities of people who aren’t afraid of the laments— aren’t afraid of people giving voice to brokenness, abuse, injustice. Aren’t afraid of change. When that person voices their pain, their lament, when they blast their journey like an early Eminem single; they listen and learn to walk with them. 

Because deep down these beautiful people understand deep inside of the lament there is the cure. Once we’ve begun mourning, crying, lamenting something happens. 

In Geneses 49:14  there’s an odd reference. It reads, “”Issachar is a jawbone donkey lying down among the sheep pens.

In the Hebrew there is a strange idiom— the words for jawbone donkey is Chamor Garem— it means a strong donkey crouching. 

Now— let me give you a little more about this idiom. 

The phrase in that culture actually is used to denote a bitter medicine that cures through cleansing the body. 

Cleansing the body. 

Because here’s the thing. Sometimes the medicine that removes the disease is really painful. Anyone ever gag down castor oil in order to get things moving— yeah— rough! 

Lamenting, crying out against injustice, mourning over something or someone lost, crying out against injustice— when we do this— crouching there inside of the crying out is also the antidote. 

When the crying out, mourning, lament happens it ushers in the possibility of healing. 

There is no healing until the pain is recognized and understood— until it’s wrestled with. 

Issachar is a Strong, Crouching Donkey. 

Your laments, your grief, your pain is a strong crouching donkey— your lament, your lyric, your voice is the gift that will bring healing. 

I was asked to speak at a funeral of a young man that was murdered— for no reason. It was tragic!!! 

As I was standing in the back before the service began I watched people. I watched as the community mourned. They were crying, holding one another. 

In the service there were songs of lament with powerful lyrics; poems read. But something struck me as I spoke.

I saw three full rows of police officers there.
I knew he wasn’t in law enforcement— I was confused. 

I asked one of the officers later that day how they knew him— their answer— we don’t. “We don’t know him. But we as a law enforcement community are in deep mourning because we were crushed to hear of this injustice. We came because we wanted to show support”. 

When voices lament— when people cry out— what’s really fascinating is that community begins to have the opportunity to act and bring repair. 

These police officers were the living breathing reality of the kingdom that day just by simply showing up to show solidarity. 

Here’s what happens when we cry out— we realize we are not alone. 

Psalm 77 is a beautifully tragic poem where the writer is calling out for an absent god.

This poem is 99% lament— where was God when we needed him most. Where was God in our struggle? Where was love and justice when i lost the ones I loved? 

But watch the ending in verse 19. 

Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen. 20You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron. 

Through all the pain, all the brokenness, in the mourning and the sadness, in the where is God moments were told the writer recognizes after his lament that God is here— God was the story, the journey you traveled. 

God was there in the act of lament breathing life into your pain and the only way to start this process was doing the difficult action of sharing the honest, authentic lament. Today I hope you’ll take time to use your honest, authentic voice. Scream if you need to. Shake your fists toward heaven even. But whatever you do allow the god of the lament to hear your voice and begin walking in the journey with the confidence that you are not alone.