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Her.meneutics is edited by associate editor Katelyn Beaty and online editor Sarah Pulliam Bailey.

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October 10, 2011

Grumble Hallelujah on the Kitchen Floor

Why lamenting needs to be part of our Christian lives and our churchy conversations.

Caryn Rivadeneira

As I lay on the kitchen floor — my body rocking with sobs, my mouth telling my husband, “I hate my life”— it never occurred to me to pick up the phone and call a friend. To tell someone that the life I was living, in which rug after rug kept getting pulled out from under me over the past few years — my parents divorced, my husband’s business tanked, our debt rose, health issues loomed, and our marriage sagged under the weight of it all — was nothing as it was supposed to be.

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In fact, I was mortified when my husband rounded the bend and saw me there. Crying and hurting is something I do best alone.

So I was surprised to find Amy Dickinson write this in her 2010 memoir of life as a single mom, The Mighty Queens of Freeville: “I wanted two things when I first learned that my marriage was ending. First, I wanted it not to end. And second, I wanted for others to share a complete and interior knowledge of my heartbreak, followed by demonstrable grief.”

Is that true? I wondered. Are there people whose first inclination amid heartbreak is to tell others? In person?

Even though my heartbreak and disappointment were quite different than hers (my marriage, for example, was not ending) I couldn’t imagine wanting to tell a soul.

And yet, Dickinson  — a.k.a. “Ask Amy,” the syndicated columnist who filled Ann Landers’s wise shoes — laments that she could not share her grief. “While there might be tiny streets tucked away somewhere in London where this sort of behavior is both possible and tolerated,” she writes, “they remain like Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter novels: attended by witches and warlocks and mysteriously hidden from view for the rest of us.”

Though I’ve never lived in London, I believe my middle America neighborhood is much like this. Maybe it’s because I grew up being taught to always respond, “Fine, thank you. And how are you?” when asked how I was. What I took from this well-meaning, good-mannered advice was, “No one wants to hear your problems, Caryn.”

And a few more “witches” and “warlocks” moved in to block the streets where I could speak.

All through the years of being disappointed with life, I spoke very little of what was going on. I was ashamed. Scared. Confused. For being angry with God, angry with my family, and generally hating my life. I kept hearing the voice in the back of my head say no one cared about my problems. And then, another voice, that my problems were not real problems at all: Look around the globe, Caryn! People are suffering! Starving! Trafficked!

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But mostly, I feared the voice that told me I shouldn’t complain. That if I really loved Jesus, I’d trust and obey. And shut up. And choose joy. And praise him. I feared the voices that said voicing hurts and disappointments not only had no place in the Christian life, but was antithetical to it.

Just after my fetal-curled time on the kitchen floor, I cracked open my Bible. Then, I risked vulnerability and talked to a friend.

And I realized something: complaining about the “supposed to be’s” of life is not only cathartic, it’s biblical. Consider the complaining that is done in Bible. Think of the lament Psalms. Of the entire book of Lamentations! Of Habbakuk without any sheep in the pen, any grapes on the vine. Of Jesus himself, on the ground, sweating and desperate for his cup to be taken away. Each of these lamenters turned to God in their suffering, ultimately rejoicing in him and trusting him with the “direction” of their lives. Even when it was to the cross.

I believe this complaining, this lamenting, needs to be part of our Christian lives and our churchy conversations. Because it’s the down times of life—the crises—that can lead us to God, to what he wants from our lives.

In a Psychology Today article, Marcia Reynolds writes, “…don’t let people tell you that you have no right to be unhappy with your life. It is okay to lose your equilibrium when others think your life should be smooth sailing. It is okay to question your life’s purpose. It’s okay to say, ‘I don’t know who I am.’ It is better to ask the questions and seek the answer than to live a numb life.”

It’s something we Christians should be preaching as well, not simply because it’s psychologically beneficial but because it’s spiritually true. Especially since Jesus told us as much when he says, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33). This is the same Jesus who tells us we will have trouble offers us life to the “full” in him (John 10:10). I believe these babies go hand in hand.

The full life doesn’t mean everything will come up roses, that we have to paint on fake smiles and walk through life with nary a grumble. The full life means we recognize the life we’ve been given and seek God in it. It means that we begin to see the kitchen floor — or wherever our hurt takes us — as holy ground, as space to seek God and his will for our lives. A place for step one toward a truly full—of troubles, of joy, of sorrows, of laughter, of disappointment, of fulfillment—life that we can love, and through which others can see Jesus.

 

Caryn Rivadeneira is the author of Grumble Hallelujah: Learning to Love Your Life Even When It Lets You Down (Tyndale, 2011). She lives with her family in the western suburbs of Chicago, and writes for Her.meneutics regularly.

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Posted by Sarah Pulliam Bailey on October 10, 2011 10:07 AM

Comments

Love this: "The full life doesn’t mean everything will come up roses, that we have to paint on fake smiles and walk through life with nary a grumble. The full life means we recognize the life we’ve been given and seek God in it."

And I can't wait to read this book!

Posted By: Karen | October 10, 2011 11:43 AM

Ironically, I'm reading this in Canada, where today is Thanksgiving Monday. There's a difference between trust and thankfulness and being Polyanna, I think. I see no need to thank God for things that are obviously consequences of living in a broken and sinful world, but even in the midst (especially in the midst) of living those consequences I have seen God's faithfulness, and for that I am thankful.

Posted By: Christina | October 10, 2011 12:21 PM

I agree with the author of this article. Not only do we need to be honest about our struggles and suffering, we need a community that values our authenticity and sees it as part of our spiritual journey.

A few years ago, one of our daughters got into some serious trouble with drugs and alcohol. Over a two year period she was arrested three times, and alternated between rehab and a psych ward. She was cutting, on meds for depression and anxiety, and exhibited self-destructive tendencies. We would go to church on Sundays, agonizing over her, but felt we couldn't speak the truth there or in our small group, for fear of judgment. One family we shared with actually severed ties with us lest their daughter be influenced. I understand that fear, but that was so painful. Thank God for a handful of close friends who would listen, offer grace and pray for us. That was part of our journey, and we're all stronger for it today.

God has brought much healing since then, but I'd love to see the church be more like 12-step groups, where everyone admits that we all are powerless over something, that we all need grace, and that we all need each other. Make it so, Lord.

And Caryn, thank you for your thoughtful and honest article.

Posted By: Leslea Linebarger | October 10, 2011 12:37 PM

"The full life doesn’t mean everything will come up roses, that we have to paint on fake smiles and walk through life with nary a grumble. The full life means we recognize the life we’ve been given and seek God in it. It means that we begin to see the kitchen floor — or wherever our hurt takes us — as holy ground, as space to seek God and his will for our lives. A place for step one toward a truly full — of troubles, of joy, of sorrows, of laughter, of disappointment, of fulfillment — life that we can love, and through which others can see Jesus."

Really great. Your story begs the question: What did Jesus mean when he said "abundant" or "full" life? This, of course, could be the topic of a different Her.meneutics post altogether.

Posted By: Lyndsey | October 10, 2011 12:42 PM

Your first two paragraphs shook me up inside. I mean, of course we all deal with our worlds falling apart. I know that intellectually. But to know in my heart and see it expressed as I (and I'm sure numerous others) live it ...

Oh I hear those voices all the time "You have no reason to be upset, unhappy, dissatisfied..."

The idea of using that unhappiness and unsatisfaction to get closer to God and closer to the life he has for me - that's where I need to dig in and tell the voices to be quiet.

Posted By: Jennifer | October 10, 2011 1:39 PM

Love the honesty! Love this post. We will be overwhelmed at times. This is when we need to vent a bit and get perspective from a Christian sister who will listen and then pray with us. Often things don't need to change for it to get better. We just need peace and the load shared a bit. And we need to realize we aren't alone; our situations aren't wacko and so out of the ordinary; that what we are feeling is authentically human and doesn't invalidate our Christian experience -- that indeed is a real part of a Believer's life that can be used to bring us closer to God.

Posted By: Jane Hinrichs | October 10, 2011 2:30 PM

"I kept hearing the voice in the back of my head say no one cared about my problems. And then, another voice, that my problems were not real problems at all: Look around the globe, Caryn! People are suffering! Starving! Trafficked!"

Ooh, that second voice gets me all the time! Who am I to get down-in-the-dumps about my problems, when so many people are suffering so horribly, and I have been so blessed? Or maybe I'm still scarred from my parents suggesting I sing "Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, going to the garden to eat worms" when I'd start complaining. :-) Ah, the power of hyperbole!

I agree--lamenting is an important part of the Christian life. I think we avoid it because weakness and vulnerability makes us uncomfortable, and it's difficult to see it in ourselves or others. This always makes me think of Isaiah 53:3--"He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces, he was despised, and we held him in low esteem."

Like one from whom people hide their faces. This is NOT a new problem!

Posted By: Jenny Rae Armstrong | October 10, 2011 2:35 PM

Great post, Caryn! I've struggled with this issue time and again; especially when we came home with our two adopted kiddos and my world turned upside-down and inside-out on me.

For me, there's also a fear of, "Will I ever get over it? What if this grumbling takes a long time? Who will stay the course with me?" Or even worse, when it IS taking a long time, the struggles are long with no end in sight. Everyone must be sick of hearing about it, want me to get over it and move on already! And maybe, sometimes I do--but sometimes life's just very, very hard for a long time.

Isn't that what we're supposed to be for one another? Long suffering?

Thanks for your transparency, Caryn!

Posted By: Shari Dragovich | October 10, 2011 2:49 PM

Oh, what would I do without the vulnerability and honesty of the Psalms? The Psalms is my go-to place when I feel wretched. I am so thankful that God has given us the truthfulness of the Psalms; it's comforting to see how real David is when he is talking to the Lord.

I, too, have struggled deeply with ingratitude, knowing I should be grateful and fighting back feelings of guilt because my life isn't that bad in comparison to real injustice. The only way I have found to combat it is 1) be honest with God (just like David), and 2) ask God for help. He is gracious and merciful and often answers such prayers as, "God, help me be more grateful."

Posted By: even one sparrow | October 10, 2011 6:38 PM

This article is so true. Ladies start a life group. You could base it on Stormie Omarion's book The Praying Woman or any woman centerd book no more than 10 women, have everyone make just a 10 week comittment to come do there homework and whatever is said at the meeting is sacred never to be shared that takes the pressure off. We are doing this and oh my gosh God shows up and we hate to see it end each week.

Posted By: toni gmuer | October 10, 2011 9:11 PM

"But mostly, I feared the voice that told me I shouldn’t complain. That if I really loved Jesus, I’d trust and obey. And shut up. And choose joy. And praise him."

Well said, Caryn. I tend to come up with the same arguments against myself. It's funny, though, that when others are experiencing problems I do not hesitate to say there's no reason to compare themselves to starving children overseas and that it is ok to experience these feelings of pain and anguish. It must be a case of physician-heal-thyself. Or rather it's a case of turning to the great Physician himself and allowing God to do the healing.

Cheers,
Tim

Posted By: Tim | October 11, 2011 12:11 PM

A little over two years ago, we walked into a new church, and spent the first few services in tears. We walked into a church that told us that they weren't perfect, that everyone was broken, but that we would link arms and walk through it all together under God, and love each other through it.

Over two years later, and it's been that way and I thank God every day for a church like that. It's not a happily ever after kind of thing, but through our troubles, we have had real brothers and real sisters truly loving us and helping us when they could, and us loving them back - both in intangible and in the most practical ways possible.

This is what church needs to be.

Posted By: Mommynator | October 11, 2011 1:58 PM

My husband and I recently--temporarily, hopefully--separated due to his severe mental illness. I'm on my own, heartbroken, with two small children. This isn't how my life is supposed to be.

I just got "Grumble Hallelujah" in the mail and I cannot WAIT to read it. Thank you for addressing this vitally important subject, Caryn, so we can all learn how to praise God in the darkest of circumstances.

Posted By: R. | October 11, 2011 4:06 PM

May a man comment on HER.meneutics? This emphasis on realism in the Christian life, on authenticity, is as much needed among men as among women. As a song-writer, I'm distressed by the lack of Lament songs in the Contemporary Worship repertoire, and have written a few of this genre myself - trying to fill the gap. When I read a 'prophet' warn against lamenting with Wesley that I am "prone to wander" because this negative confession is unworthy of Christian song, then I appreciate anew the Psalms with their authentic realism that allows, even encourages us, to be transparent with God - and with one another. Men need to read and heed Caryn's superb article.

Posted By: Hugh Wetmore | October 13, 2011 2:36 PM

Thank you. I am ordering this book as soon as I am finished with this post. Since the day I was adopted, my life has been one tragedy after another. I had plenty of good times and am very blessed. But I am so tired of the kitchen floor. I wouldn't be able to fit all the things that have happened to me and my childhood family and my adult faimly in this space. I came to my Savior late in life(46) and without Him I would never have left the kitchen floor. I think Paul wrote "I can do all thing throught Christ that strengthens me.", which is true, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt.

Posted By: Sally Lindberg | October 18, 2011 2:12 PM

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