I look back on the past year with amazement.
According to my calendar, exactly one year has passed. I know that because I've checked the date several times.
One year has passed.
How is it possible for so much to have happened in one year?
I went back this morning and read my journal from this time last year. A word that shows up often in those entries is the word "numb." So much was happening this time last year - and so much of it was so grievously hard - that I several times described myself as "numb."
At this point, I'm not even sure what to make of the past year. Over the past twelve months, I have experienced some of the deepest griefs that I have ever known - and I have experienced some of the greatest joys that I have ever known. And all of that within the same season of life. Over the past twelve months, I have felt devastating despair and I have experienced rock-solid confidence - and all of that within the same season of life.
And though the word "numb" is a word culled from last year's journal, I think I still feel that way today.
There is this amazing word at the very end of Ezekiel 19. The final word of that chapter is shocking to me. Reflecting on the entire chapter, the final verse says this: This is a lament and is to be used as a lament (19:14b).
Isn't that funny?
Why would we need to be told that this particular chapter is a lament? Isn't that obvious?
And why would we need to be told how it is to be used? How else would we use a lament?
As numb as we sometimes are, however, perhaps we need to be told both of those things!
Here's a problem common to human beings: we don't know what we should be sorry for - and we don't know how to grieve. So there is clearly a need for this rather obvious instruction: this is a lament and this lament is intended to express sorrow.
The story in Ezekiel 19 involves a lioness and her cubs. As each particular cub matures, it is carried off into captivity. Later, the mother is described as a vine - a vine once planted in a beautiful place, but now planted in a desert. Sadly, there is not a branch on the vine fit for a ruler's scepter (19:14). The story is a story of disappointment, failure, loss, and defeat. Though we might figure it out anyway, we are told explicitly that this is a sad story - and we are told that this story should be used to express grief.
I see that this story holds no happy ending or resolution. The only hope, I suppose, is that the vine is still planted - even though it's now planted in a dry and thirsty land. It doesn't look like much, but at the end of the story there is still this vine. And we are left to wonder what might become of it.
This time last year, I was reeling. This time last year, I was working on my fourth funeral (out of eight that would come in the blink of an eye). Three of these deaths were suicides. This time of the year is also the anniversary of my mom's death. And at this very time last year, my father's death was imminent. So it's no wonder that the word I was drawn to last year was the word "numb." At that time, I wasn't feeling much of anything at all.
I was so numb, in fact, that simple instructions were necessary. This is a lament. And it is to be used as a lament.
Sometimes, we need to be told exactly what to do.