Lament and Hope

Have you been to the grocery store lately?  There are a million memes about toilet paper, but more pressing is the feeling of fear in every aisle.  The anxiety is palpable, and as a person prone to feeling what’s going on around me—it's almost physically painful to observe.

The worry over two-ply or one isn’t the issue.  It’s the fear of someone we love being struck with illness.  It’s the uncertainty of when the curve will flatten.  It’s the anger.  It’s the grief.  It’s the anxiety of inadvertently carrying the illness and giving it to others.  It’s worry about job loss.  It’s all these things and a million more.  The next time you’re at the grocery store look at people’s eyes—so many pairs are glazed over in resignation. 

I know this reads as depressing, but at present it’s simply the reality.  We needn’t paste a smiley-face emoji on everything (I do this) because everything is not happy.  One need only look to a lament psalm to see honesty about our emotions can be a vital part of our prayer.

Read Psalm 42.  It begins beautifully with a deer panting for a stream as we long for the Lord, but as the psalm continues fear-riddled questions are posed: (9-11a) I say to God my Rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?”  My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me, saying to me all day long, “Where is your God?” Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

Lament is part of the psalmist’s prayer.  

Friends:  It’s okay to lament AND at the same time it’s also okay to put our hope in God.  Sometimes lament and hope coexist, so we pray all of it to God. 

But don't miss the psalmist's refrain:  Hope. Look at verses 5b and 11b:  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.  11b is the bookend of the psalm—a reminder that come what may we are people of hope, God is with us, and we give God praise.

For me this means choosing hope daily.  What does that look like for Katie McKown?

• Starting my day with ‘Pray as You Go’—a prayer app based on Ignatian Spirituality.  Music, prayer, scripture, and guided questions begin my morning.  This is an app new to me and it’s a good fit for this season.
• Praying specifically for people by name
• Taking a walk outside
• Scheduling FaceTime calls with friends and family.  Sometimes I call to work puzzles (hey I’m #cool) or games, and other times I call because I’m feeling anxious or worried.
• Updating my Instagram and Facebook pages more regularly to communicate with my neighbors
• Trying out Facebook Live to share puns
• Sending thank-you cards or surprising friends with gifts in the mail
• Refraining from reading news when I feel overwhelmed
• Taking a nap when I feel tired
• Writing

I continue to lament over COVID-19, but hope is the beginning and end of my prayer (or that is my goal, rather).  The choices above help me choose hope, and maybe choosing hope looks different for you.  What does choosing hope look like for you? I’d love to hear your suggestions. 

God is with us, brothers and sisters.  This is reason for hope. 

#Puzzletime with my pals Randi (L) and Tony (R)

Women Were Not the Echo Today

I will worship…  (men lead)

I will worship… (women echo)

With all of my heart… (men)

With all of my heart… (women echo)

The soundtrack of my early 20s was contemporary Christian music.  I still enjoy it, and although I also like the liturgical calendar and smells and bells—I’ll never not sing my heart out to "Big House."

Somewhere along the way I noticed women often (always?) echoed the men in praise choruses—this happened at conferences and on the radio.  At first it seemed normal because it was presented as such, but one day it struck me:  Why is this normal?  Why do men always sing the lead?  Why are women always the echo? 

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Fast forward to this week. 

Women were not the echo.

Chapel Service at Tyndale Seminary

Our Uptick Voice cohort gathered in Toronto at Tyndale Seminary.  We are a group of women who are leaders in the church and nonprofit world.  As part of our learning experience we worshipped with the seminary community, and as we entered the sanctuary we were met with a diverse team of women leading us.

I was immediately struck by the visual and before I realized it I was choking back tears.  The tears were a response to the beauty of the moment and also the rarity of the moment.  It's rare and it shouldn't be.

I thought about it all week.          

God’s choir is at its most robust when men and women are living in the fullness of God’s calling.  And that means we lead according to our gifts; so sometimes women lead and men echo and other times men lead and women echo. 

This is the witness of scripture.  Paul entrusted Phoebe to deliver (and likely read!) the letter to the Romans.  The church in Rome echoed.  12 men were called to serve alongside Jesus.  Men and women echoed.  Mary Magdalene was tasked with preaching the first sermon of the resurrection.  The (then) 11 echoed. The fullness of all voices leading—alto, tenor, soprano, bass—adds to the richness of the choir.

Leadership changes according to gifts and seasons, but when you’re only allowed to be the echo…it’s hard to imagine you can lead.  This week I heard a scholar say “you can’t imagine what you haven’t seen.”  Do girls see women leading at your church, or are they only allowed to be the echo?  Could there be little Annas and Lydias who don’t know God’s possibilities because you haven’t shown them?  Men, can you consider standing alongside us and insisting on this? 

I am grateful for the men and women who’ve helped me understand God’s call on my life.  That list is long, and I’m eager to encourage the next generation of ministers among us.

Privileged to help lead this Uptick cohort of women leading our churches and nonprofits.