An Advent Liturgy of Lament
LEADER: The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad;
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus;
it shall blossom abundantly
and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
the majesty of our God.
Strengthen the weak hands,
and make firm the feeble knees.
Say to those who have an anxious heart,
“Be strong; fear not!
Behold, your God
will come with vengeance,
with the recompense of God.
He will come and save you.”
Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then shall the lame man leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the mute sing for joy.
For waters break forth in the wilderness,
and streams in the desert;
the burning sand shall become a pool,
and the thirsty ground springs of water;
in the haunt of jackals, where they lie down,
the grass shall become reeds and rushes.
And a highway shall be there,
and it shall be called the Way of Holiness;
the unclean shall not pass over it.
It shall belong to those who walk on the way;
even if they are fools, they shall not go astray.
No lion shall be there,
nor shall any ravenous beast come upon it;
they shall not be found there,
but the redeemed shall walk there.
And the ransomed of the Lord shall return
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain gladness and joy,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. (Isaiah 35:1-10, ESV)
PEOPLE: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!
L: Lord of Advent, in our waiting for your arrival, we feel the weight of darkness in our world and on our hearts. While we hold hope that the coming Christ is a light that shines in the darkness, and yet, we still sit among these shadows, waiting for the light of Christ to illuminate all that is dim.
As we wait in this Advent, we sit in the tension. Hosannas and Hallelujahs are seated at the same table. Cries and praises from the same voice. “Rejoice” belted in a minor key.
As we wait in this Advent tension, meet us here, Lord. Come to us in our neediness as the Christ came undeterred to the humble and lowly. Meet us here, bent low in our lament, longing for your arrival.
P: O Christ, in our despair, we long for your hope.
In our unrest, we long for your peace.
In our aches and grief, we long for your joy.
In our fear, we long for your love.
L: As your people waited and grieved, longing for the coming Messiah, we wait and grieve, too, in the great and small griefs of these days.
As we mourn in lonely exile here, all we have to bring this arriving baby King is the cries of our lament. Trusting your hope is coming, we lay our griefs before You, Lord, that You might hold and heal them.
We bring you the grief of losing milestone events. The loss of weddings, funerals, graduations, and the celebration of births, birthdays, and holidays shared. We bring you the loss of these expectations and celebrations, the loss of memories made, and time with loved ones. God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of lost time at school and college with teachers, classmates, and friends. For cumbersome learning, for loss of community, for a string of events that were planned and will never take place. For the loss of home and support that comes at school, for the ache of sudden goodbyes or no goodbyes at all, God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of lost work. For those affected by loss of employment during this time, in not only their loss of income and sense of stability, but likely their loss of present purpose in using their gifts for career and service. For temporary or permanent closures of small businesses that make our communities vibrant. For the burden of being furloughed or let go and the burden of having to furlough and let go. God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of chaos. For rolling waves of bad news, for pandemic ripple effects in our world and homes in a myriad of ways. For pain and problems that are far greater than our ability to hold. For the anxiety and stress we feel, for the exhaustion that comes with rethinking even the smallest parts of our routines and pre-pandemic normalcy. For those who are paralyzed and trying to cope while feeling isolated, God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of essential workers who face greater exposure to the coronavirus and greater exposure to the short fuses of those they are serving. For the fear and exhaustion, in the hands of those stacking shelves and making deliveries, for the devastations facing healthcare workers and their limitations in healing, for those in IT and manufacturing, feeling the weight of providing the world with what they need to continue to function. For churches, pastors, and leaders, feeling insufficient in these days to encourage and comfort their people. God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of hardships at home, for homes that lack peace in marriages and relationships, for fearful kids, for those living alone in isolation. We grieve for our isolated elderly, for grandparents missing grandchildren and grandchildren missing grandparents. For exhausted parents and children struggling with life outside their norms. For all the aches of homes, God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: We bring you the grief of the struggle to respond and meet needs. For the difficulty for our leaders to lead in this time. For people in poverty and communities that are feeling greater impact while working to survive on fewer resources. For people around the world for whom social distance isn’t possible and hygiene resources aren’t available. God, we grieve.
P: Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
LEADER: I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, “My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:17-24, NIV)
As you showed in your coming as a humble Babe in a manger that you are close to the brokenhearted, be close to us now.
As your invitation to the unlikely to be part of the Messiah’s birth, you showed your loving kindness to the lowly in their hardship, show us your loving kindness now.
We believe you are not afraid of the darkness, but you hurry to it to shine your light.
P: O Come, Emmanuel.
L: O Christ, the hope for our despair.
the peace for our unrest.
the joy for our aches and grief.
the love to cast out our fear.
P: O Come, Emmanuel. Lord, have mercy. Christ, come quickly.
L: Strengthen our faith in your coming to make all things as they ought, that we may join your Church in singing,
ALL: Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.
We sing in full voice, though it be in a minor key.
We sing rejoice. Lord Jesus, quickly come. Amen.